Assassin's Creed: Death Rattle Part I
by Foxeyes13
Summary: Dakota Alexia Verdi, ignorant to a war and life she never knew existed, is thrust into the life of an Assassin following a series of unfortunate events. She is faced with a cold reality to either join the Brotherhood and follow her father's footsteps, or be hunted down by the Templar's. Only does she know that her journey is just beginning.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue- Antonio's Memoirs**_

 _November 22nd, 1994_

Today, Tabatha and I welcomed our new baby girl into the world. We named her Dakota Alexia Verdi; Dakota after the tribe her great grandmother hailed from, and in memory of her grandmother whom passed away two months ago. Alexia was to be her first name before her grandmother had passed, and so we compromised. The joke about the room was between Dakota's zodiac and nationality- an Italian Sagittarius, simply destined to be a wild child. I couldn't wait to see this little one grow and surprise us.

My Assassin's were following diligent orders; two always stood guard at door of the hospital room for the duration of Tabatha's stay. Another set of Assassin's stayed at our home and kept an eye about the neighborhood for the threat of Templars. The nurses at the hospital were confused about our strict standards; constantly reminded us of the hospital security on campus. We would smile and thank them, but kept in mind that we protected each other. The same precautions were set in place when Jason Carry and his wife Amanda had their first child a few months ago. The system worked out well, and Amanda felt safe at all times.

The surviving members of Tabatha's and my family came to see Dakota later in the day. Tonya, Tabatha's sister, had made an unexpected visit despite slowly losing her battle with breast cancer. But today, Tonya was energized with the excitement of the new baby in the family. My last surviving sibling, my brother Arnaldo, came in the afternoon for both good and bad reasons. As he had said to me upon greeting him in the hallway, "I am here to see my niece, since my time with her will be short." I think my face expressed shock, because Arnaldo pulled me aside to tell me the news. His mission was failing against the Templar's ever expanding Abstergo Industries. They would hunt him to the end of the Earth just to put a stop to his life now that they knew who he was and the sabotage he inflicted to their Order. Arnaldo would share the fate the rest of our family has been inflicted with since the times of Renascence in Italy.

I sighed at the news, "maybe, one day, Dakota will see the end of this war."

"Are you going to teach her our ways?"

I glanced to the floor, "when she's old enough. She should be able to choose her own path."

My bother clasped my shoulder, "let's hope it's the Eagle's path."


	2. One- Colt

_**One- Colt**_

I set off for one of the most important and prestigious missions the Order has been waiting for the chance to deploy. Dakota Verdi was to be collected and brought back our base for her training; however this mission was not going to be clean cut and as simple as it sounds. Dakota has been raised blind to her heritage; ignorant to the fact her father was the most powerful Master Assassin the Order has witnessed for at least a hundred years. When Dakota was ten years old, her father was murdered by a small group of Templar's. His murder was cleverly covered up by a corrupt police force that passed off the incident as a bank robbery.

Knowing that the Templar's were at large and on the hunt for the Master Assassin, Dakota's parents took precautions the day she was born to insure her safety. Antonio Verdi had many Assassins within his ranks, all willing to give their lives by his command, to insure that the Assassins prevailed. Antonio called upon his ranks to watch over his wife, Tabatha, and daughter if he was to die. Also in his attempt to insure the safety of his family, Antonio turned to some of his fellow Master Assassins, asking them to take Dakota in for training when she was eighteen years of age if he was to meet his untimely death. Never to ignore a new recruit, the Master Assassin's agreed to take Dakota under their wing.

For what we know of Dakota, her personality, work ethic, and even her tastes for revenge elude us. Her mother does not stay in contact with the Assassins more than those Antonio has asked to guard the Verdi household. Word had gotten to the Assassin's late of when it was time to collect Dakota; she turned eighteen and graduated high school, and in the middle of her freshman year of college. We were to collect Dakota after her high school graduation and before she started attending college, now my job has become more complicated.

After an eight hour flight from London to New York City, I exited the plane and surfed through the crowd of people waiting passage to their destinations in the fourth terminal. With ease, I found my luggage, and made my way to the airline terminal train. My connector flight was to take off from the first terminal, and my flight will end in Reagan National Airport, Washington D.C. As I boarded the terminal train, I couldn't help but notice a man who stepped onto the train off to the right. He looked at me as I examined him, and he took his seat only to look at the floor. I stayed standing, holding onto the safety bar overhead, and I kept my eyes on the man. He looked suspicious, and his nervous actions of rubbing his hands together and bouncing his left leg made my senses keener to him. The train lurched forward, and I kept my eyes downward to only see the man's feet and arms. After only a few minutes, the train jolted to a stop marking our arrival to the first terminal.

I let the other people exit the train before myself, and I lost the curious man in the swarm of people. Slowly, scanning the crowd I was stepping into, I looked for the man. Within the waves of people, I moved with them, blending into my surroundings as I searched the hall for him. Moving at a slant, I felt eyes upon my back. Nonchalantly, I peaked over my shoulder, and sure enough the man was following behind me. Quickly, avoiding any contact with innocent people, I dodged into the men's restroom that was unoccupied at the moment.

The metal door closed behind me, and I looked at myself in the mirror before checking if my temporary ceramic blade was in working condition before I engaged in a fight. With a flick of my wrist, my hidden blade ejected from the strap under my sleeve with no snags. Another flick of my wrist, the blade disappeared from sight. The bathroom door flew open, and there stood the man who followed me.

"Think you could just slip away, Assassin? Think we wouldn't have followed you?" He growled with a grin on his face so sickening I curled my top lip in rebuff.

" _Oh_ _I knew_ , Templar," I growled.

The man lunged at me, and I sidestepped to the left to avoid his grasp. He fell into the sink counter, catching himself with his hands. I grabbed him back the collar of his shirt and threw him against the metal stalls behind us. The Templar's head hit against the metal once, and I repeated the motion twice more, slamming the man's head against the metal doors until a dent had formed. The Templar grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm back until I released him. Quickly, I kicked him in the groin so he released the twist. As he grabbed for his groin in pain, I mustered my force and delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to the man's back. The Templar fell to the floor, hitting his face off of the dirty bathroom tile. He did not move as blood ran from his temple onto the white tile, and I moved away from his body, and left the bathroom.

As I walked away from the scene, I watched as a few men enter after me. I blended in with the crowd and moved towards my designated flight in hopes of not being discovered.


	3. Two- Dakota

_Two- Dakota_

I placed an empty candy box in the trash, and returned to my register to check out a customer buying a bottle of soda and a candy bar. She began to tell me that she had been in the hospital for three days now with her sick husband, and that she was sick of the food from the cafeteria. I smiled comfortingly, offered words of hope for a quick recovery, and handed her change back. My coworker waited outside of the gift shop door for the woman to exit before pushing in a cart filled with drinks to restock the shop's three coolers.

Sebastian pushed the cart inside, "Did you hear about the guy they found dead at JFK airport?"

"No, I didn't actually. What happened?" I asked as I walked towards the coolers to help restock.

"I guess some guy got the shit beat out of him in the men's bathroom. Craziest part is the authorities have no leads on the guy that killed him. There's only some security footage of someone leaving the bathroom with his hood up- so they have no idea what he looked like. Then he just seemed to disappear, like, they can't pick him up on any other camera angles. And there's not even a single eye witness or anyone that can plausibly say 'Hey yeah I saw that guy and here's his description.'"

I shook my head, "That's crazy."

" _Right_? Like how does that even happen?"

With another hour left to go in my shift, Sebastian and I closed the store with a sign on the door reading: _Will Reopen Shortly- Sorry for any Inconvenience_ so we could complete the midday shift change in peace. As I filled out numbers on the receipt tape, calculator in hand, a red pen in the other, Sebastian and I launched into a conversation about our family origins.

"Do you believe all the stereotypes about different cultures, Dakota?" Sebastian asked as he typed in the midday money drop into the computer system.

"No, not really," I shrugged with a laugh, "but on my father's side, I'm like a third generation Italian, so I have a few of those ' _stereotypes_ ' I guess."

"Oh?"

I laughed, "Yeah, I talk with my hands a lot."

Sebastian laughed, "Oh _that's_ what you've been doing? _Talking_ with your hands? More like doing an interpretive dance."

My only response was laughter- my hand motions while communicating have almost accidently smacked a few faces in my lifetime.

"What does it mean to be a 'third generation'?" Sebastian asked printing off another receipt tape.

"My grandparents moved here in the fifties from Italy. So there's my eleven aunts and uncles, then my dad made twelve. All of them spoke Italian, too, so my dad taught me."

"That must make the holiday's fun, you know, with a big family and all."

I paused, "I guess it would, if they weren't all dead."

Sebastian's jaw dropped with panic in his eyes, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean...I didn't know!"

"Its fine," I shrugged, "I never got to meet any of them. Except my dad, of course, but…" I trailed off.

I got off work at three, taking my skateboard from the back of the gift shop and fitting it under my arm; I gave Sebastian a quick wave of my unoccupied hand as a goodbye. His goodbye ended with his voice increasing in volume, pleading for me to be careful as I put my pink beanie on my head, and walked out the door. Once outside the hospital, I threw my skateboard down on the sidewalk and jumped on, heading towards the local university. I was off to spend some "time" with Logan, my friend-with-benefits for close to a year now. He was a biomedical engineer major, hardcore gamer, and the only person I knew who could drink an entire bottle of moonshine without passing out. He has been my friend since the first day of freshmen seminar, and it grew into something neither of us was expecting. We have a few classes together this year until the 'engineer' part started to kick in, leaving me alone with the rest of the people in the Bachelor of Science in Nursing program.

Logan was the one who invited me to the first college football game- including the pre-game shots, and the after party with celebratory vodka and marijuana in an orange. That night with Logan sent my promising freshmen year to the depths of late night shenanigans within the company of the "wrong crowd." From there, Logan and I decided to fool around without the commitment or the dating, turning into friends with benefits with an almost _50 Shades_ twist to it all. It was a half-ass attempt at romance if you asked me, but by no means was _I_ an expert.

Once on campus, I zoomed past a group of my fellow weekend party-goers sitting along a fountain. They whistled and yelled comments acknowledging that they _knew_ the purpose of my visit. As I passed I flashed the ever so classy Sup Nod and continued zigzagging through crowds of people until at last reaching Logan's dormitory hall. I kicked up my skateboard and placed it under my arm to enter the building. I wondered my way up to Logan's room on the very top floor, dodging through people as if I were never there. I knocked on his door when I arrived and it almost instantly it opened.

Logan was standing in the doorway in his normal T-shirt and basketball shorts. He wore his red hair pulled back in a pony tail, a brilliant white smile, and the look of desire in his eyes. I walked into his room, walking with as much of a strut I could imitate. He closed the door and locked it.

"Good to see you, Dakota." Logan's southern drawl cooed as he smirked devilishly at me.

I smirked back, "cut the crap and get me in bed."

I decided not to stay the night and left quietly while Logan was in a sex-induced coma for the evening. Skating home, I contemplated what to do about my flings with Logan, and found no easy way out without inputting some type of lie. I liked the idea of being one of those "world traveler" kids who ended up just being a runaway with no better excuse. I entertained the idea of leaving my life here in Washington D.C. and wondering my way to the great cities of New York, Boston, Seattle, New Orleans, and maybe finding a home there. If money was no option, I'd find myself a tumbleweed within London, Paris, Rome, and wherever else my heart so desired.

Upon entering my home, all seemed normal for any particular evening. I put my skateboard by the door and kicked off my shoes before turning to lock the front door. Moving from the breezeway into the kitchen to the left, I started to fix myself the leftover Curry from the semi-weekly Friday takeout night. Last night, my mother and I decided on Tai food and watched our copy of the movie _World War Z_ , and for once, I actually stayed in the entire night. Desperate pleas of my friends made my phone vibrate repeatedly throughout the movie as they begged me to come out and party. First of all, I had work bright in early at eight o'clock since I had to open the gift shop, and secondly, I just put on sweat pants and was in no hurry to replace them with skinny jeans again. Regardless, I enjoy my night in at my house; the adrenaline rush the zombie movie provided me was satisfactory for the evening.

As the microwave beeped signaling my food was waiting to be devoured, I heard my mother laugh from the dining room. I eyed the threshold of the kitchen in such a fashion it seemed I was blaming the walls for a case of the giggles. Then came the decision between abandoning my reheated Curry spinning around aimlessly in the microwave to see what or whom my mother was chuckling at, or take my bowl and look like an idiot walking around with stringy noodles in my mouth. I looked from the threshold to the microwave and back; letting out a sigh, I left my noodles in fear of a socially awkward noodle eating episode. In sneaky-spy fashion, I left the kitchen and moved towards the dining room; peering in from the hallway I found my mother seated at the table with a glass of wine across from a stranger.

I knocked on the archway to the room, and my mother looked up, " _Dakota_! You're home," She smiled at me then gestured to the man sitting at our table. "This is Colt Burdett. Colt, this is my daughter Dakota."

"Uh…hi," I said to the stranger. He did not dress to be of anything of importance, jeans and a hoodie with messy brown hair, so why was he in my house? I hoped my mother did not take on a new mission to save the homeless.

"Hello, Dakota," he smiled.

Yep. I didn't like him; he looked like a sneaky bastard.

"Dakota, sit down, Colt needs to explain a few things to you." My mother said after taking a sip of wine.

I blinked at her, "Can I get my noodles first?"

My mother blinked back at me, "Yes. Go get your noodles."

When I returned to the dining room with my bowl full of spicy noodles and soda in a wine glass, I curled up cross legged seated at the head of the table between my mother and Colt. When my mother and Colt finished the conversation they were holding, Colt turned to me and began asking me questions about my college major, my friends, and my job. After a long half hour in an almost interview type atmosphere, Colt sat back in his chair and chewed his lip. He then looked to my mother and nodded; she immediately stood up and left the room without saying a word.

"Dakota…do you remember your father well?"

I _really_ did not like this guy, "yes."

"So you know about the Assassin's then." Colt did not ask, he had stated something I have never heard of, and therefore I felt as if it was an accusation.

"The _what_?" I asked shortly and annoyed.

"Dakota, are you aware your father was part of a Brotherhood that follows a Creed? A Brotherhood with a Creed with sworn enemies known as the Templar's?"

"My dad was a business man who was shot at gunpoint in a bank robbery." I gave him a cold stare, my face becoming hot.

Colt sat back, then waved with two fingers at the door way in a _come in_ sort of fashion. My mother re-entered the room, carrying a thick leather bound book clutched to her chest. Colt continued, "Your father was no ordinary business man, Dakota. Your father was a Master Assassin- a great Mentor at that- who was shot down by a Templar group in a bank. Cleverly _disguised_ as a bank robbery; the Templar's got away."

I was disgusted, " _Che diavolo è questo, è figlio di una cagna_?! You have some _balls_ to come in here and start feeding us this bull-!"

"-Dakota!" My mother said sharply, "He is telling the truth." She placed the leather book on the table and pushed it towards me.

I pulled the book close to me. The cover had an odd, large symbol upon it; it was some sort of curved triangle with points near the bottom, underlined by an arch _. Is this the symbol of the Assassin's? Are they really telling me the truth?_ I turned the cover over to find a page written in a beautiful script, but it only took a moment for me to realize it was in Italian. My mother prompted me to read the page, and so I did. Quickly translating the page, I muttered to myself the pages contents:

 _Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted_

 _To say that 'Nothing is true,' is to realize that the foundations of society are fragile,_

 _and that we must be the shepherds of our own civilization._

 _To say 'Everything is Permitted,' is to understand that we are the architects of our actions,_

 _and we must live with their consequences, whether glorious,_

 _or tragic._

-Ezio Auditore da Firenze, _Roma_

"Who is this Ezio guy?" I asked not looking up from the page I had just read.

"A very important Assassin from Renaissance Italy," Colt said.

"He recruited the first member of your father's family into the Assassin's," my mother said softly, "and the Verdi family stayed true through the generations."

I turned the page and found documents and photos of people known as Templar's; these people were my father's targets as my mother explained. I could recall a few of these names from the news and accounts of them being murdered or dying from overdoses in homes and hotels. It was odd to look upon faces of intended targets with red X's marked over their faces…faces of people my father murdered. Continuing through the book, I found some pictures of people who are my current neighbors; one of which my mother was currently dating, and his son was in my graduating class in high school. I was shocked- the picture of the father-son duo was unnerving, but it put a lot of things into perspective for me. My mother was not only just starting to date Jason Carry, but she was dating someone who was close to my own father. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about their dating status anymore. Even more shocking was Greg Carry; it explained his weirdness to me all throughout high school, because he _knew_ about the Assassin's, the truth of my father's death, and I did not. My mother informed me that our neighbors had special orders from my father to look over the household until I became of age. Only then was I supposed to be approached by the Assassin's. This book was also my father's journal, filled with countless entries dating from when he was my age. I didn't read all of the entries, simply gazing over them and turning to the next page. Reaching the end of the book, I found newspaper clippings of my father's murder, and details on the bank robbery. Then, on the very last page of the book was a picture of my mother standing next to my father. He dressed in strange black robes, smiling down to the baby in his arms.

"Mom…is that _me_?" I asked gazing upon the photo.

My mother's voice cracked, "yes, Dakota. It is you."

I sat back in my chair and stared at the photo. "Why didn't anyone _tell_ me?"

For a long second, no one justified my question, but when the answer came, it was my mother to speak. "Your father believed that you shouldn't be exposed to a cruel way of life so early. He was raised as an Assassin, Dakota. All of your aunts and uncles…your grandparents…they were all Assassin's; all of them killed by Templar's. Antonio believed that it was _your_ choice to pick the side of the Assassin's when you had become older."

The thought stayed with me for a moment. It was a generous offer from my father to keep me safe by staying ignorant. He must have understood how difficult this was going to be for me to do alone, right? Well…if he knew that it would be hard for me to understand all of this, why would he _not_ make plans to teach me when I was older? Unless…unless he had _known_ that it couldn't be that way.

"Did he know he was going to die, too?" I asked, tears welling in my eyes.

My mother choked on her tears, "yes, Dakota, he knew he was going to die. He knew that very day that he would be faced with the Templar's..." her voice trailed off.

For a long time, I stared at that photo of my father holding me. No one said a word; my mother's sniffles becoming the only sound in the room. Within just a few moments, everything I once knew about my father's life was completely turned upside down. How much of my childhood was improvised to fit around this hidden life of my parents?

"So," I shot a look to Colt and met his eyes, "what do you want from me?"

Colt straightened himself up in his chair, and folded his hands upon the table. "Your father knew that living a life as an Assassin and a family man was very dangerous. He made sure that his ranks of Assassin's lived around one another, and therefore protecting each and every family. Each Assassin made the same pledge to one another, and that was to watch over the families of fallen Brothers. However, your father asked something rather particular, and that was to inform my base when you graduate high school and come of age."

"Why?" I asked simply, trying not to feel so ignorant to the matter.

"Your father wanted you to have the option of coming to train at our secret base in London, England."

I was confused, and slightly taken aback. "England? But you don't _sound_ British."

Colt smiled, "I'm originally from California, but I was sent to train at this base. There are plenty of Assassin's-in-training from different places all over the world and of different ages."

"How do you get into this base? Like, do you have to be really good and _selected_ to go there?"

"No, Dakota," Colt shook his head with a smile. "You simply must have connections and a safe passage. We take in young teens and adults that are down on their luck and want something to fight for. We offer private rooms, free meals, and free training, all in the agreement that they become an Assassin."

"So… the Assassin's must be really successful then if you can afford all of that," I said with a hopeful smile.

Colt made a twisted face, "not _exactly_. The Assassin's only have this one set base, and it has not been there for a long time. For our money to supply the utilities and necessities, we have… _inside_ sources. Plus, we spare expenses on security, because the Assassin's we train act as our guards when reaching a certain rank."

"What about the Templar's? Wouldn't they figure this base out sooner or later?"

Colt shrugged, "they already know about it. Although, they can't prove we are what we are not; for instance, the base is in an old hospital that we remolded for our needs. When the hospital went out, _we_ came in under the disguise that we were taking in certain kids on special scholarships."

"Seriously? That's it?"

"That's it. The people believed us, and the Templar's can't find anyone of any decent power to say otherwise. Everything is disguised well enough that it looks like a _modern_ school with a high price tag, and on top of that, we don't cause any commotions within the community. We are actually quite charitable with the community and have some of the 'students,'" he air quoted, "help with volunteer work."

I shook my head, everything was just so surreal. "So what am I supposed to do?"

"Well…we need you to drop out of school, leave all of your friends behind, and come back with me to England to live at our base."

My jaw dropped; Colt had just put everything so bluntly that it seemed rude to ask me to fuck everything and become an Assassin. I mean, my friends in college weren't the _best_ of friends, and all of my friends in high school went their separate ways. I still had my friends at The Shack though, they were the closest things I've had to "real friends" since I left high school. Plus I didn't know anything about the Assassin's, and I wasn't a murderer! How could he expect me to sign up to become a mass murderer? And how on Earth was Colt expecting me to leave my mother here alone, now knowing that there are Templar's prowling about that enjoyed killing off my family members. On the other hand, Colt had just prompted my way out of town… _tumbleweed in London…_ maybe there was an opportunity?

My mother spoke up, "sweetie, I know it's a hard decision…"

"How long do I have to decide?" I asked a little hesitantly.

Colt shrugged, "I am here for three weeks, so you have until I leave to make your decision."

I barricaded myself in my bedroom for the rest of the evening. Colt was staying in our guest bedroom for the entirety of his trip, which indicated I wouldn't be able to escape this epidemic without making a decision. I turned the idea over and over again in my mind, staring at my black and pink stripped wallpaper decorated with things I have collected over the years. I stared at the large dream catcher my great grandmother made for my mother when she was little. I looked over the detail of the web a thousand times like it was going to give me an answer to my dilemma.

Just the idea of the Assassin's bugged me. I felt as if they were the shady sort; even my own father was an Assassin and I had never heard of them until now. Colt had picked a very sensitive topic to bring up right after meeting with him; I was filled with a disgust that, even now just thinking about it, made me want to throw something. Then there was that _Ezio_ dude talking about how society should treat civilization; it sounded like a Biblical reference. I couldn't shake the feeling that the Assassin's were some religious cult trying to gather up as many followers as possible, but for my dad to be the religious type didn't seem to fit. My mother was the religious one in the family, taking me along with here three nights a week to Catholic Mass when I was a little kid. Although, when my father died, my mother's faith was shaken greatly and we immediately stopped going to church all together.

For my father to be in a religious cult would have gone against all of my mother's morals. I had to look past a possible religious sentiment in the inscription from that Ezio guy. Maybe the Assassin's were some secret Italian organization? Could my grandparents have possibly come to America in the fifties to see to this organization spreading? I highly doubted it, but then again most of my family died from "strange causes." For instance, my uncle Angelo was murdered in his home trying to defend his family from an intruder. Things started to click from there; my father's entire side of the family died from really _odd_ reasons. Could it all really be from those…Templar dudes? Was _I_ on the hit list? God, that was a bone chilling thought- my name on a hit list and I was to die ignorant of the entire war between two secret organizations? I could be another casualty to this war and the Templar's could just pass it off to the authorities as easy as my father's death. It angered me. The connections to the Templar's gave me someone to hate, someone to blame for ripping my family completely apart; killing off my family because they followed a different creed.

If I agreed to join the Assassin's, but wait the full three weeks to announce my decision, I would find myself ending my first year in college, quitting my job, and moving away from Maryland. Then again, I would be leaving all of my friends, my mother, and my entire college opportunity that I received on a full-ride scholarship for nursing. I stressed myself to a point of exhaustion, and fell asleep dreaming about my anticipations of these Assassin's and Templar's.


	4. Three- Colt

_Three- Colt_

Dakota was sitting on the floor of her bedroom with thick textbooks opened and her written notes spread out in front of her. I would have considered her a pretty girl, as she had a curvy hour glass figure, but she had quite a lot of piercings. Her right ear pierced seemingly all the way from lobe to cartilage, and her left ear had two piercings in the lobe. She had the left side of her nose pierced, along with her right eyebrow. As she sat and studied, I could hear the sound of metal rubbing against the inside of her teeth, and once and awhile she would bite down on the stud pierced through her tongue. Everything about her screamed college-kid-rebellion, and it was quite annoying.

Dakota ripped her fingers through her black hair with a heavy sigh as she flipped through her notes, mumbling to herself as she read. I was standing in the doorway to her bedroom, a little hesitant to disturb the stressing college student.

I tapped the door a few times.

"Yes?" She asked snidely without looking up.

"Studying for finals, I see."

Dakota nodded, "pretty much."

"For nursing, was it?"

"Indeed," I could hear the annoyance in her tone.

"Why did you choose nursing?"

With a sigh, Dakota looked up from her notes with a half-sneer-half-frown. "Nursing can pay well and it's a field I'll actually get a job in. Plus, I get to help people and hopefully make a difference in their lives."

I smirked, "so you like to help people, is it?"

Dakota shrugged, "yeah, I mean…I _guess_. I'm outgoing and get along with a lot of people, so why _not_ work with them?"

"There are other ways to help people, you know."

She caught on, and shot me a look, "yeah, running around stabbing people seems like a lovely opportunity."

"I don't think you understand the power Templar's inflict on innocent people."

"Can we talk about this some other time, Colt? Please? I'm trying to study for my last final tomorrow."

"Just one more thing, Dakota, please? Just one more thing to think about?"

Dakota eyed me, "and what might _that_ be?"

I smirked, "you know your precious Facebook…Twitter…Instagram?"

"Uh-huh," Dakota nodded.

"They're all Templar based."

Dakota's mouth opened slightly with her eyes squinted at me. She was mulling something over in her mind for a quick second before closing her mouth again.

"What do you mean?" She snapped accusingly.

"All of the social media you have integrated within your lifestyle as a teenager has only provided Templar's with critical information. They see everything that you post. They know _all_ of your entered information."

"You mean like hackers?"

"No, Dakota. The Templar's record everything everyone in the world puts on social media because they _control_ social media. Its how they keep an eye on everything in the world; you all put information out so _willingly_ on the internet. It makes their jobs easier," I shrugged.

I left Dakota on that note, trying to find a new approach and convince recruiting her. I moved through the house to the kitchen, where Dakota's mother was cooking dinner. Tabatha was a pretty woman, still dressed in her work clothes from the accounting office with her blonde hair pulled in a tight bun. The kitchen smelled of pesto and chicken, and as I neared the stove I noticed she also prepared pasta noodles.

"Smells good, Tabatha," I smiled.

"Oh, thank you, Colt. It's actually Dakota's favorite pasta dish, and not my own recipe."

" _Oh_? Wouldn't happen to be from the Italian side at all," I mused.

Tabatha gave a small laugh as she pulled plates and wine glasses from the cabinets.

"You must be very proud of your daughter; she seems like a very determined young lady. I was just speaking with her, but she was studying."

Tabatha huffed, "I am proud of her…she reminds me of her father. But, I wish she would stop going to those college parties."

"Parties, huh?"

She nodded and looked at me sadly, "I think she got mixed in with the wrong crowd. Before starting college she was _fine_. Beautiful, laid back, and incredibly smart. Now she has two tattoos, a habit of getting drunk, and she wastes her good looks on some guy I've yet to meet. I think she's even messed around with using marijuana; she sometimes reeks of it when she comes home from parties."

"Rebellion at its finest," I said, leaning against the wall.

Tabatha nodded, "has she come around to listening to you yet?"

I shook my head, "she's been brushing the subject off. But, what do we expect from someone that finds out about the Assassin's?"

"Just keep trying…she _needs_ the Assassin's."

Dakota returned home late in the afternoon the next day with a smile on her face. I had never witnessed the girl smile so brightly since my arrival, and I must say it made her appearance look better. She stood in the door way, her hourglass yet small and delicate looking frame showing through her tight pink shirt and black skinny jeans. Her brown eyes are bright, even under all of the black eyeliner she had on.

"I passed my finals!" She announced, her black hair bouncing from side to side.

"Congratulations, Dakota!" Her mother said with a smile.

With a dramatic huff, Dakota continued, "I thought I _bombed_ my test for Anatomy, but I got a hundred percent!"

I raised an eyebrow, _ah, so she is smart_. "Congratulations, that's quite an achievement."

Tabatha smiled, "Dakota you always put yourself down. You're incredibly intelligent; I don't understand why you think you'll do horrible."

Dakota rolled her eyes.

That evening at dinner, I decided to try to sneak some more information out of Dakota on any hidden skills passed down her thick Assassin bloodline.

"Dakota, have you ever had anything weird with your eye sight?"

She shrugged, "when I was a kid, I guess."

"Oh? How is that?"

"Well…I had this _thing_ I could do that made everything go…almost like the negative strips of camera film."

My interest peaked, "Really, Dakota? What happened when you had this vision?"

She laughed a little, "I cried. I was only maybe five years old when it first happened. My dad told me it was okay, and that I just needed to focus. Like I would hear things and it was just…weird."

" _Hear_ things?"

"Yeah, like a metallic noise. Like I _heard_ objects and _saw_ sounds. Oh, and stuff would glow."

"Do you use this ability often?"

Dakota laughed again, "Only when I get high- _uhh_ ," her face turned red, "hy _per_. Too many Monster drinks, ya know?"

I smirked, knowing that was not what she meant at all. "Why don't you use your skill?"

"Well…I had told some of my friends in elementary school that I could do it. They didn't believe me, but they made fun of me for it for _years_. The teasing didn't stop until high school ended."

"Oh, how…unfortunate."

Dakota shrugged again, "I got over it. I guess the kids thought my dad's death was more of something to tease me about then my blue-vision issues."

"Oh…," I wasn't sure what to say; to be supportive or to be quiet was the question. "Well…the vision ability you have is actually a helpful tool for an Assassin. It is called Eagle Vision."

She snorted, " _Eagle vision_ , eh?"

"You should try to use it more often."

"No thanks, that crap's so weird."

I rolled my eyes; Dakota was an impossible young lady.


	5. Four- Dakota

**_Four- Dakota_**

"Sebastian, can I ask you something?"

I was just about finished with my mid-shift at the gift shop, but I needed someone to take me seriously. My friends at college were automatically untrustworthy of an unbiased answer, either from friendship or weed, so I had to ask the love struck kid I worked with; he was the only third party member in a time that I had a harsh decision to make. It was already a week down and I still couldn't make up my mind- I needed some sort of consulting.

"Sure, Dakota, what's on your mind?"

"I was recently asked a really hard question and I can't seem to balance out my pros and cons by myself."

"Is this a life threatening decision or a what-should-you-wear-next type of question?"

I snorted, "it's not 'life threatening.' Or…well maybe, I'm not sure yet."

Sebastian's eyes grew wide, and I cut him off before he could even start.

"Anyways! My question is: if you were asked- or, _given_ the _opportunity,_ to leave this place and move away…what would you do?"

Sebastian contemplated for a second, "do you mean just pack up everything and leave tomorrow?"

I nodded, "sort of like that."

For another moment, Sebastian mulled it over in his mind and biting his fingernails as he did. "I mean, who gets the chance to just get up and live all study-abroad style. That's freakin' sick as it is. But…to just, you know, quite frankly, screw everything and _leave_? It's a little unrealistic."

"See, that's what I'm faced with. Would you take it?"

"I mean, I guess I would if things like a roof over my head and stuff like that was provided."

I smiled, "seriously? You'd just say 'fuck it' and go? You would drop your friends and your job just to go live a life you don't know?"

"No joke, I would. But the thing is, Dakota, you have a lot more friends than me. You have a lot more things _going_ for you than I do."

I shrugged and let out a sigh, "right now the only thing keeping me in Maryland is my mom."

I left the gift shop, Coca-Cola bottle in hand, and wondered my way over to Logan's dorm room. I knew I had The Shack to get ready for, but I just wanted to see him. After all, he was still my friend, but just with some extra perks. When I reached his room I could hear him raging over the new Call of Duty, screaming cruse words into the microphone or even just at the TV. Pursing my lips and furrowing my brow at the door where the yells that sounded like pain and suffering were coming from, I hesitantly knocked.

"Awe, _fuck_!" A loud on-TV explosion went off, "Who is it?!" Logan yelled still filled with gamer rage.

I looked at the door and put on my thickest case of sarcasm, "Peter Pan. Who the hell else would it be? Open the frackin' door."

A few sounds of _thud thud thud thud!_ and the door was wide open with Logan standing on the other side with a smile, "smart ass."

"Thanks, comes with the territory." I entered the room, but as I tried to walk past Logan, he held out a stiff arm and wrapped me to his body.

He pushed the door hard enough for it to close, "what'd you need to see me for, pretty lady?"

I shrugged against his body, "I need to talk to you as a friend."

"Oh! Good I needed to talk to you about something too."

Logan brought me over to the bed where we sat down next to each other. I was mistaken when I thought Logan would be a gentleman and let me go first; instead he carried on with his question.

"Well…I've been thinking about how long we've been… _friends_. And I've been thinking about all the things we've…well _done_." Logan stammered.

"Yeah, _so_?" I asked before I could control the venom in my voice.

Logan's mouth twitched, "well…I want you to meet my family when I go back home to South Carolina this summer."

I raised a quizzical eyebrow and snorted, "What would you introduce me as? You're personal _puttana_?"

He lowered his eyes to the floor, and I took the chance to sip on my soda, "No…I want to introduce you as my fiance."

I gagged on my drink and spit some of it out, gasping for air. "You're _what_?!" I uncoiled my legs from underneath me and stood up.

"Please, Dakota, I really have fallen hard for you. Please, _please_ at least give it some thought!"

I shook my head in disbelief, "Logan, what we have is _not_ a relationship. I'm not marrying type, and nor is _this_ a relationship to get married in! Plus, we're _fucking_ freshmen for God's sake!"

"But Dakota," Logan pleaded, "you're so _perfect_! Please, would you give it a few days? Would you think about it?"

I shook my head, "No, Logan."

"Why not?" His eyes were full of anger, and his voice was starting to rise, "Because you're afraid of committing to someone? Because you're afraid that I might actually _treat_ you well?"

I made my voice match his tone, "No! Because you would make a shitty boyfriend let alone a _husband_ ," the word came out with such anger it caused Logan to flinch.

"A ' _shitty_ _boyfriend_?' How do I deserve that status, huh?!"

I made a grunt of disgust, "Hello? Are you _serious_? Do you ever try to come hang out with _my_ friends? Come meet _my_ mother? Come the fuck on, Logan. The only thing I am to you is a free rough ride when you want one. So yes, you'd make a shitty anything."

I walked out of the room and slammed the door behind me, trying to forget the pained and shocked look on Logan's face. I, too, had tried to forget the words that came out of my mouth just from anger. As I reached the end of the hallway, Logan was rushing after me, yelling for me to stop- but I kept walking. It wasn't until I reached the stairwell that he caught up with me, grabbing my arm trying to make me stop.

I turned on the spot and slapped his hand off of my arm, "don't touch me!" I growled, and tried to continue on.

"Please, Dakota, _please_! I love you!"

That made me stop; I turned slowly to face him with a death look only female rage could bring, and shouted, "Don't ever say that to me again! Do _not_ bring this guilt on me, Logan! Don't even start!"

"Dakota…I just…I don't understand! Why is it that every girl I know begs for relationships," his voice faltered, "and you don't want _anything_ to do with me."

I threw my head back and groaned. "It's not _you_ , Logan. I don't _like_ relationships. _I_ don't like being held down by a guy; I don't like being _claimed-_ "

Logan spit the words back at me, "' _claimed_?!' You think that a relationship is _claiming_ _someone_?! Jesus Christ, Dakota! I don't want you as my _slave_ ; I want you as my wife!"

I screamed, "That's what a wife _is_ , damn it! A wife gives up _everything_ to a man and I _will not be a victim_!"

Logan became still; he looked very hurt. I wondered if I had crossed a line with him, as he had crossed a line with me. Simply, this is why "friends with benefits" could never a good idea for anyone; someone will always, in the end, become hurt and a friendship ruined. So quickly I just watched a good friendship come crashing down and burst into flames. I looked at Logan with sadness as I knew this friendship was over, and then with anger, for I knew that no matter how the news had come to him about my apparent departure, this would have ended the same.

Logan, with a voice filled with venom and conviction, whispered hoarsely, "you never had a problem of playing _my_ victim when you stepped into my bedroom."

I could feel my face turn red from both embarrassment and anger.

I screamed at him as I rushed away, and out the door, " _Vai a farti fottere_ , Logan! _Arrivederci_! _E buon viaggio_!" Go fuck yourself, Logan! Goodbye! And good riddance!

Later that night, I was sitting on a beat up couch at The Shack, staring across the room to a full bodied mirror propped up against the wall. I looked numb; shock finally set into my being that what little of a relationship I had with Logan was officially over. Now, I was faced with a fight between two of my friends that started about a week ago. It took a few minutes to sort everything out with the two boys, Nick and Justin, but one thing was clear- the two were done with each other. The fight was over something stupid, of course (something about a missing drum stick of Nick's, and girlfriend problems of Justin), and I decided that neutralizing the situation was the best outcome.

My other friend, Alex, was sitting adjacent from me tapping his hands on his leg.

Alex spoke first, "what a night, huh?"

I grunted, "Yeah, what a fucking disaster."

Flipping back his dyed black hair, Alex let out a deep breath in frustration. "You know, I knew something like this was going to happen."

I put down the last section of hair that needed straighten and nodded, "yeah, and Nick left with the weed."

Alex laughed, "damn it all. What's wrong with _you_ tonight?"

I shrugged, "a lot of shit's just been happening lately. Did you hear from Logan?"

Logan and Alex had met at a college party and had become quick friends. They were known to have constant party chats on PlayStation, and I knew Logan would be fired up about today's sequence of events.

Alex nodded his head, "he's pissed."

"I don't care. He shouldn't be tryin' to put a ring on it. I ain't Beyonce," I mocked Logan's southern twang.

Alex laughed out loud, and it made me smile.

Alex and I didn't even find the urge to drink all night as usual. We watched some TV and made fun of reality stars for a few hours. No one else showed up to The Shack when word got around about the drama that occurred, leaving us without alcohol and weed for the night. Alex drove me home before midnight, singing along to loud music playing on the radio.

Pulling into the driveway, Alex sighed.

"Well, Dakota…"

I sighed, "yeah..."

"It wasn't meant to be, I guess."

In the dark, illuminated by a nearby streetlight, I shook my head and stared at the front door.

"Alex, would you leave if you got the chance? Start over?"

He made a noise to signal his disapproval, "I have my family here. And school, too, that's a big thing."

"Yeah…I just feel like I have nothing left here, ya know? Like…if this town is trying to push me out of it."

Alex didn't comment, which was probably for the best.

"Alrighty," I sighed, "thank you for the ride home."

I removed my belongings from the car and waved to Alex as he put his car in reverse. I couldn't tell if he waved back before he backed out of the driveway, but I felt as if I was watching another friend leave my life as he drove away. _What the actual fuck was going on anymore?_ Goddamn it, all of this started when Colt showed up with his talk of Assassin's and Templar's. I just wanted nothing to do with it; I just wanted to eat my Curry noodles and have late night out with friends. At least it was the illusion of being wanted- being a part of something I found enjoyment in. As the taillights of Alex's car disappeared from sight as he rounded the bend, I slowly collected myself and walked inside.

My mother and Colt were already asleep inside the house, leaving no lights on for my expected arrival home. I knew that in the morning no one would ask about how my day was or even my night went. My father was always the one to ask me about my day, he'd always listen to my stories and comment. I walked quietly to my room and grabbed my yoga shorts and T-shirt that I was going to sleep in before shuffling my depressed self into the bathroom for a quick shower.


	6. Five- Dakota

_Five-Dakota_

I was beginning to feel the pressure for a decision to be made, both from my mother and Colt. There was only a week left before Colt returned to England; my window of opportunity quickly closing. My mother wouldn't voice her opinion about what I should do directly, but I desperately needed someone to give me advice, to tell me to stay or to go. Colt was only interested in talking me into going to England with him. He was promising things like personal training sessions along with interesting classes that related to becoming an Assassin.

" _Why_ , all of a sudden, are the Assassin's interested in schooling their disciples?" I asked boldly as we discussed the topic of my leaving.

Colt screwed his face up as if he tasted something sour, giving me a harsh look.

"We're trying to improve the Assassin's. If we teach and work with our new recruits they'll have a better knowledge of the field. They can find special knacks, like working with computers or working in medical. It's just like finding your favorite weapon to use."

Now it was my turn to look at him questionably, "a _favorite weapon_?"

Colt nodded, "well…yes. All Assassins' find some type of weapon they choose to use over others. It's something about the use to the weapon and the Assassin's fighting style that clicks."

I rolled my eyes, "so you're telling me that if I go, with no experience or knowledge of the Assassin's, that I'm going to do _just_ fine?"

Colt nodded, "we would never send someone who wasn't ready out into our line of work."

"Gee, how comforting," I smirked and crossed my arms.

"Dakota, I think you would be a wonderful Assassin. Really- I do, you just need some work and some classes to educate you."

"Listen," I pinched the bridge of my nose between two fingers and closed my eyes. "I don't like the idea of killing people. I don't like it at all."

"Killing people?" Colt asked in a manner to prompt my explanation.

I looked at him with a sneer and spoke with thick annoyance, "yeah like it kind of goes against _everything_ I set out to do as a nurse? You know, I like the idea of _saving_ lives, not taking them?"

"Dakota, we only kill Templar's. We do not harm the innocent; it is part of our creed."

With a new interest, but still just as sour, I muttered, "and what is this _creed_ of yours."

"Nothing is true; everything is permitted."

I raised an eyebrow, "that's it? What the hell does that even mean?"

Colt shook his head, "refer back to the inscription from Ezio Auditore."

"Oh yeah, _that guy_."

To me, Colt's Creed was more like _Nothing makes sense; just go with it_. I sighed and leaned my head back on the couch, still depressed from everything that has transpired through the day. All of the amounting stress made me just want to go back to the way my life was only a few weeks ago. I was better off not knowing about the Assassin's and Templar's anyway. So what if they came to kill me? Really, I wouldn't leave much behind for people to miss. Still, the thought of the Assassin's made me want to dig for more concrete information. 

I was quite for a moment, "Who would be my personal trainer?"

"I would be for your private sessions. Other mentors teach skills classes and will work on the tactics you need. Each class is broken down into different areas of combat, weapons, and physical things like running and climbing. Then you can choose your elective classes; that's how people find their knack within the Assassin's."

"Sounds like a lot of work."

"That's because it is," Colt dropped his eyes, "but you may make a difference in the world."

I snorted and rolled my eyes, "highly unlikely."

That evening, my mother was preparing for her date with Jason Carry- the man I now know as an Assassin. I was called in to her room to help with the date-night preparation. Upon entering I found her dressed in a curve hugging black dress, paired with black Stiletto high heels and a rosary with ruby colored beads hanging from her neck.

"Why, Tabatha Verdi, you look scandalous for your conservative self," I laughed.

My mother smiled lightly, peering at me from her mirror.

"Ready for me to do your hair?"

"Oh, yes. I was just wondering, Dakota, would you curl my hair and maybe we can do an up-do type thing?"

I snorted, "Yes, we can _try_."

As I worked on curling my mother's hair, I decided I needed to break into her mind about this Assassin business.

"Mom…what do you think about this Assassin thing?"

"What do you mean?" She asked quietly.

I sighed, "I mean…should I do this?"

My mother didn't reply for a few moments, but she turned towards me when she did.

"Dakota, you are a strong and smart young lady. I know you weren't brought up knowing about the Assassin's, and that's mostly my fault. I didn't want to lose you like I knew I was going to lose your father. I didn't understand the war between the Assassin's and Templar's then; I didn't think it would last this long, actually. See, they've been fighting for thousands of years, sweetie; a constant struggle that's been erased out of _all_ those history books you've read in school.

"Has it ever come across to you that there seemed to be _holes_ in history? Unexplained reasons that people died or how power shifted from one hand to another? For instance, take the American Revolution- the Colonists _really_ shouldn't have been able to defeat the King's Army by experience and equipment supply. So _what_ changed the tides? The Assassin's, Dakota; they are all throughout our history. The Templar's are always behind it, too. And the crazy part about it all? The Templar's and Assassin's are fighting for almost the _exact same thing_ , but the Assassin's want people to choose for themselves, and the Templar's want to take that ability away- to enrich themselves and gain power by killing anyone who gets in their way.

"Dakota, I have witnessed the evil of these Templar's. They've killed your father's entire family because they _thought_ differently and fought back. The entire Verdi family, as far back as the renaissance in Rome, has been a family dedicated to the Assassin's. It is up to _you_ why you wish to follow or not- revenge, knowledge, to fulfill what your father started…or not. They practice what they preach, and have left the choice for _you_."

"Thank you, mom," I bent down and gave this fragile looking woman a hug, careful not to burn her with the curling iron.

Not long after my mother left for her date with Jason Carry, Colt went out to do some "spy work" in the heart of political Washington D.C., leaving me alone in the house. After a week like this, I wanted a drink. Furiously texting my friends at the college, I asked around about end-of-the-year parties and who was all in attendance; one girl came through with a location. As quickly as I could, I threw on some party clothes- tight black leggings with a strip of almost completely see-though black lace on the sides, a form fitting neon yellow top with a heavy duty push-up bra underneath, and my bright pink Chuck Taylor's. I hurried through my hair with a flat iron and threw on some makeup before grabbing my skate board and heading for the party.

When I arrived, I made myself a red plastic cup filled with blue raspberry Vodka mixed with lemonade. From inside the phrat house radiated loud, pulsing music and a cheesy disco ball sending spots of colored light in circles. People had glow sticks left and right waving to the beat of the overbearing music. I lost myself in the crowd, drinking my full cup of vodka and taking shots all the way to the main group dancing in the living room.

A few hours later I was drunk as _hell_ ; grinding on a guy whose name I didn't even know to some rap song I couldn't make out through the bass. It had to be well past two in the morning when flashing red and blue lights started to cause a panic. In that moment, I was so drunk I didn't understand what was happening and started laughing. When the kitchen door was kicked in and the cops started to flood the place, I started to realize that for one, I was underage and drunk to the moon and back, and for two, I needed to get the hell out of this house. The kid I was dancing with had already left for the back door, and I went to follow his example when a cop car pulled up in the backyard.

"Oh, shit." I mumbled.

I had never been in this house, and very quickly my options running out. I moved faster as my mind started to clear a little from all of the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I looked for some other option when I found a staircase leading upstairs to, presumably, the bedrooms. Through the rushing crowd, I pushed my way though until I made it up the staircase, lined with a few passed out kids with spilled drinks and- _oh sweet baby Jesus_ \- puke, all down the carpeting. Carefully stepping over the laying bodies and puddles of… _yuck_ , I made it to the second floor, stealing a glance downstairs to the ever advancing policemen. The first room I found was a bathroom, which would be the easiest place to be caught. I needed a place to actually hide myself until the cops cleared off. I moved from room to room looking for a good sized closet or even a high enough bed that I could squeeze under, but low enough the cops wouldn't look underneath. The one room I did find with the perfect size bed was currently occupied with a couple in quite the drunken embrace. I kept moving, listening to the police start up the stairs through the pounding of my heart. I found the laundry room with a washer and dryer, a small supply closet, and a tall and wide laundry-bin full of clothes. I was running out of options, and there was no window. The cops were closing in, so I made my choice.

Grabbing clothes out of the basket, I stepped inside and curled my legs in as tightly as my anatomy would allow before bringing the clothes on top and all around me. Making sure there were no holes in the clothes above me, I quickly pushed a few shirts up against the slots in the hamper so my face and shoes were hidden. In this tightly squeezed position, it was hard to breath, both from clothes slowly falling onto my face, and the restriction of area in my chest for my lungs to fill. I heard approaching footsteps in the hall. Door by door, the cop moved into each room and began a sweep for any hidden party goers. I also heard the yelps of the naked couple down the hall as they were intruded on by a policeman.

I heard footfalls enter the laundry room, and through the clothes I could see the light of a flashlight. The cop moved around the room and opened the doors to both the washer and dryer, along with the storage closet.

"Let's go, boys! House is cleared," said the cop in the laundry room with me.

It was late Sunday evening while in my room on my laptop looking through some of my old high school pictures on Facebook, listening to music, and forgetting about the day. Colt was in the other room, readying his things to leave the very next evening, and I was glad. I did not accept his recruitment into the Assassin's; I had quite a lot here still left to achieve, none of which that asked me to take lives and live a life of secrecy. Colt was not pleased with my refusal, but he could not force me to become an Assassin. He had to practice what he preached and allow me to have my own free-will, he could not force his ideals upon me and he had to accept that with grace. My mother seemed unshaken by my denial. Knowing my mother, she was probably relieved that I did not join forces with the organization my dad had once been so keenly associated. For myself, I wanted no part in the Assassin's beyond knowledge that my father was part of some order with a creed. I would like to learn more about my father's endeavors- however dark and disturbing they might be, so one day I could understand why he was taken from me. The Templar's seemed to be a constant presence in the world, along with the Assassin's, so why would _my_ involvement make any difference in the ongoing war? The answer was, to me at least, simple: I would make no difference. I was just a nineteen year old girl with no prior knowledge of the conflicts of the two Orders. I had no training or any means of influence throughout my life to make me an asset to the Assassin's. At last, I had someone to blame for my dad's death, someone to hate instead of being angry at God and the entire world as I had for these past several years.

About a quarter past one in the morning, I decided it was time for bed. I pulled out my headphones and shut down my laptop for the night. As I started to change out of my clothes, there was a loud crashing noise that sounded like glass breaking somewhere in the house. I pulled on my jeans again and started to slowly move to my door and out into the hallway. My mother was good for breaking a wine glass now and again, but the glass I heard had been much more in abundance. As I neared the kitchen, there was a loud, high pitched scream followed by the deafening noise of a gunshot. I turned the corner in time to see my mother fall back to the floor, and two men standing at the entry of the front door. In shock, I stood wide eyed with both terror of the men and bleeding entity of my mother. I had no idea one of the men had turned his gun upon me until I was grabbed from behind, shaking me out of my trance.

"Dakota! Move!" Colt yelled.

The gunman pulled the trigger as Colt pulled me back.

The bullet whizzed past me as I was pulled to the floor. Colt, with a pistol in hand, pressed his back against the wall and looked around. Another gunshot rang out from the intruders; Colt returned fire several times before he moved from his position. I sat myself up and crawled to the corner to look down the hallway. Colt was running out of the door after the two intruders. My mother was gasping for air from her sprawled position on the floor. I crawled to her side, my heart pounding in my chest with every move I made. As I inched closer to her, I started to feel wetness on the floor that covered my hands and soaked into my jeans. _Blood_. My mother was taking shallow and ragged breaths as I approached her. In the minimal light of the house casted by a streetlamp, I could see the bullet hole in her chest. She was bleeding so heavily it made me sick to my stomach. Her eyes were distant, even when she was looking straight at me.

"Dakota," her voice was raspy.

She reached for me, her arm shaking as she did so. I took her outstretched hand that was clenched into a fist. Releasing her tight fist, she placed something in my hand and closed my fingers over the object. As she brought her hand back to her midriff, her breathing was slow and sounded of gargling blood.

" _Mom_ ," my voice caught in my throat.

"Join…" she breathed as deeply as she could, "Assassin's."

" _Mom_ I don't think I _can_."

It was a feeble attempt; I knew she was gone with her last shuttered, gargled exhale.

I looked down at what my mother had handed to me. Inside my blood soaked hand was her rosary with red glass beads affixed to a silver centerpiece and matching crucifix. It was the same rosary she wore on her date just the other night, and the same rosary she held at every Catholic mass when I was a child. Instantly, I began to say my Hail Mary's as I kneeled beside my mother's body. I felt tears stream down my face as I recited through each rosary for the first time in years.

I wasn't sure when Colt returned, but he was now accompanied by my mother's boyfriend, Jason Carry, and his son, Greg. Jason was furious and frustrated. Colt was pacing back and forth. Greg was outside on the phone with 911. I sat on the floor with my knees hugged to my chest in my mother's blood. Her rosary was wrapped tightly around my hand while I stared at my mother lying on the floor.

Once the emergency crews arrived, I was pulled into questioning by police while my mother's body was being bagged. When my interrogation was completed, Colt was next in line for questioning. Jason had made last minute arrangements at his house a few streets down for Colt and I to stay in since my home had just been announced a homicide scene. I walked with a police officer to the Carry household, and he offered me his sympathies that I only honored with an upwards twitch of my lips, a failed attempt at a smile of thanks. I took a seat in the kitchen, still very well aware that my hands and jeans were stained red.

Looking down at my mother's rosary, I started to rethink my own life. I thought about the drunken nights, the hits of weed, the meaningless sex; that would shame my father. I started to mull on the memories of the parties I attended and all of the things I did that I regretted; my mother raised me better than that. I even started to rethink what I had said to Logan, the thought of love being a ridiculous, meaningless, useless entity that enslaved people. Was there something to fight for with love? I wanted revenge for my father, and now wanted revenge for my mother's murder. Without my parents' love for one another, I would not exist…but, maybe they'd still be alive in that case.

My thoughts took me back to elementary school when I told my friend that I could change my vision; I know now that it is called Eagle Vision. She laughed at me and told her friends, who in turn started to tease me so badly I would cry every morning before school. I remembered my dad would take me in his arms and tell me that everything was going to be alright. I remembered my mother's face when I would come home and burst into tears, fresh off the bus after being teased the entire way home. For years I was made fun of for my comment on the playground. The teasing ceased in middle school for a little while, only to return again in high school after my father was murdered. During my freshmen year, I remember kids making remarks about my father's death, and the big deal I made about them shutting up and leaving me alone. No one showed me any sympathy except for a few teachers. Now that my mother was dead, I didn't have any family or friends to comfort me. All I had now was Colt and the Carry's to watch over me for the next few hours, then God knows what else might happen.

Someone cleared their throat, and I jumped.

Greg was standing in the threshold of the kitchen, "Dakota?"

I looked up to the tall kid with blonde hair and a pale white complexion.

"Are you okay?"

I sneered in response and returned my gaze to the rosary, shaking my head.

Greg was quite for a second; "I hope you can come to understand the distance I kept from you in high school after your father…" he trailed off.

"Why would I care about that right now? I'm more concerned of _why_ you're taking such an interest in talking to me _now_ after all these years." My voice was filled with acid.

"I stayed away because your father was my mentor and you had no idea what an Assassin was."

I shot him a look, "I wish it stayed that way. The Assassin part, I mean."

"Dakota, the men who broke into your house-"

"Dakota!" Colt said as he moved into the home, "The police would like to talk to you again- downtown."

I stood up, "what?"

"They're taking you in the cop car to the headquarters. I'm sorry, but they're not finished questioning you yet. And, get your hands cleaned up."

The interrogation room I was held in was nothing like what I expected. It was a small room on the third floor, with whitewashed walls, a water cooler in the corner, and a desk with three chairs. One security camera was fixed on me from above the heavy metal door. I sat in the chair facing the door and camera, waiting for the two cops to return as I anxiously rubbed my hands together. I thought I was going to be in an office filling out papers, going over what I had witnessed, and figuring out my mother's burial. Instead, I found myself in an interrogation room where they ask criminals questions as if I had done the deed myself.

Finally the door opened and the two cops entered, closing the door and exchanging looks with one another. The first cop, a shorter man with a bald head and deep set eyes sat down on my left and leaned back in his chair, looking me over. The second cop was tall and lean with blonde hair and tired looking blue eyes; he sat across from me.

"Dakota Alexia Verdi, correct?" Asked the first cop.

"Yes," I said nervously.

"I am Major Mike Dunning, and this is my partner, Officer Erik Huntington. We're going to ask you a series of questions, some you may have already answered prior at your home."

Major Dunning went through my rights once again as the previous officers had before at the scene. The two cops wanted a detailed story from me of the incident before divulging into their questions. After I told them what had happened, they started to slowly pick apart my narrative, getting the story straight. They then proceeded to ask the same questions as they had at my home, and I answered just the same. Then…the two shared looks.

"Your father, what did he do for a living?" Major Dunning asked.

"He was a businessman for some big company."

"You do not know the company?"

I shook my head, "I was a kid; I didn't pay attention."

"Uh-huh," another exchange of looks, "how did he die?"

"Murder. He was shot during a bank robbery."

Officer Huntington nodded once, "Do you know any reason why he would have been targeted?"

I shook my head, "No, sir. None at all."

The two looked at each other, and Officer Huntington smirked. I didn't like that smirk. It was in that moment that I started to feel unsafe in this situation; I felt as something was terribly wrong. Officer Huntington reached down and detached his pistol from his belt. He held up the pistol and cocked it before placing it on the table.  
Major Dunning rested his arms on the table and smirked at me. "Come now, Dakota. You don't know _any_ reason why your father was targeted?"

I eyed him, "why do you care so much about my dad? He's dead and has been so for a good while now. My mom's the freshly murdered one."

The smirk was wiped from the Major's face, "You best-"

The heavy metal door slammed open, and Colt burst into the room. The proceedings happened in a blur; Colt grabbed hold of Officer Huntington and the two began a very quick fight before Colt somehow was stabbed the man in the abdomen with a knife I could not see. Major Dunning reacted the same moment the door burst open and Colt stabbed Huntington; Dunning grabbed the back of Colt's hoodie, but Colt deflected him. Dunning threw a right hook which Colt used the back of his hand to block. Colt grabbed Dunning's wrist with his right hand, and used his left hand to hit a spot beside the larger man's elbow. Colt quickly followed up with a sharp punch to the man's neck. Dunning was stunned by the two blows that he had no time to react before Colt wrapped his left arm around his neck. Bringing back his free right hand, Colt used the same unnoticeable knife to stab Major Dunning in the back.

Colt turned to me, "we gotta go."

Colt rushed me back to my house where Jason and Greg Carry met us. I was instructed to pack away as much clothing as possible and gather any of my electronics that could connect to the internet- phone, laptop, iPod, anything, and give them up to Greg. As quickly as possible, I threw my clothes into a carry-on bag along with my small makeup bag and a hairbrush. I placed my mother's rosary around my neck and tucked it under my shirt. I changed out of my bloodied clothes and left them on the floor. I found my favorite white hoodie and pulled it on before looking around my room and shutting the lights off. I grabbed my camera sitting on the piano in the living room and hid it in my bag. I then scooped up the thick leather book of my father's that was still sitting on the dining room table. When I returned outside, Greg was awaiting open handed for my precious electronics with a mysterious Louisville Slugger over his shoulder.

I looked at him wide-eyed, "what are you going to do?"

Greg took the electronics from me and placed them gently on the driveway before viciously smashing them to plastic pieces.

Jason approached me as Greg smashed the hell out of my electronics, "the Templar's are hunting you. They'll track you faster if you have those with you."

I looked at him, "wait…where are you taking me?"

Colt stepped over, "we need to get you out of the country. We will be relocating you to the base."

"But I-I didn't-Wait…they're _what_?!"

Jason frowned at me, "your father was a very important and influential Assassin; a Master and Mentor. The Templar's will either silence you or capture you for their projects at Abstergo."

" _Abstergo_?" I repeated, completely lost.

"We'll explain on the way," Colt said, "right now, we need to get you away from here."

"But what about my mother!" I exclaimed with tears of frustration welling.

Jason sighed, "You won't be able to see her funeral, Dakota. I'm so sorry, but we need to keep you safe."

"Did someone give her her last rights?"

No one answered me.

"Someone needs to give my mom her last rights, damn it!" I yelled at the three.

Jason hurried me to the car, "We will take care of everything, Dakota. I promise."

I started to cry again as I climbed into the backseat of the car.

Jason sat in the backseat with me en route to the airport. He explained to me that the Templar's owned a multi-billion dollar corporation called Abstergo Industries. Apparently, the Templar's created a machine that could use a person's DNA to "bring history to life" by projecting an ancestor's memories. The Templar's were hunting down Assassin's to reveal the secrets stored within their ancestors memories for their own personal gain. Most of the time they were hunting precursor artifacts, something called the Apple of Eden, that had the ability for the beholder to control people. Jason explained to me that my bloodline was precious to the Templar's for how far my family has come. He also theorized that the Templar's had no knowledge of how much I actually knew about my father's dealings, and therefore could just view me as a threat to eliminate.

"The two cops who took you in for questioning were the same two men who murdered your mother. I didn't make the connection until they took you. I do apologize," Colt said from the driver's seat.

I was quite; unable to speak.

"The Templar's are tricky bastards. Clever, tricky, bastards with deep pockets," Jason commented.

I sighed, "So where are you taking me?"

Colt answered, "We are taking you to the Assassin Base in England."

"There's a problem: I don't have a passport."

Greg held up something in the passenger seat, "You're already covered."

I raised an eyebrow, but did not comment.

The ride went along for a few more minutes without speaking. Jason looked out the window while Greg and Colt stared out the windshield. My mind was buzzing with the developments of this night from hell. Seriously, what the actual fuck just happened? My mother was dead, my life was threatened by Templar's- twice, and now I was in the mist to flee the country.

"Colt, this base," I said nervously, "they'll train me even if I know nothing?"

"Yes, they will. You're not the first to be recruited there with no experience."

I sighed heavily and pulled my fingers through my hair.

"Dakota," Greg turned around to look at me in the darkness of the car, "many of us do not get this opportunity. And right now, I think you should learn how to defend yourself."

For a few moments, I said nothing for I was weighting my limited options.

"Fine. I'm in."


	7. Six- Dakota

_Six- Dakota_

I clung onto my bag as I overlooked the lush green grass expanding towards the large building that was the Assassin Base. It still had the look of an old hospital- more like a psychiatric ward if anything. I didn't quite expect this place to be so humongous or look so out of place in the neighborhood. The community the base was settled in had a small town vibe to it, and it made me wonder how people didn't know about the happenings inside the large building.

"Colt, how do the Templar's not know about this?"  
"Oh no, they know," he said nonchalantly.

"They know?" I asked with a raised eyebrow, "then why don't they try to attack it?"

"The Templar's may have the media by the balls, but when eye witnesses of the community go to social media and have an uproar on terrorism in their small community, it's a little hard to cover up."

"So what…you're all like…hiding in plain sight?"

Colt smiled widely, "that is the way of an Assassin."

Colt led me forward towards the base as he explained a few things about what to expect. Students here varied of all ages from all over the world. Some of these students were brought up with knowledge of the Assassin's their entire life and moved here after Assassin Camp liberations. Others, like me, started with no training or insight into the Creed. Colt handed me a map of the facility, and explained that the two main floors had more of the school-atmosphere components. The first floor was dedicated to the cafeteria, an auditorium, the library; two gymnasiums about two-stories high (on the second floor of the gymnasiums had observation rooms where the mentors could overlook the students), and about half of the "general education" classrooms. The second floor was mostly computer technology classrooms along with the biology labs.

The third floor held the IT and security rooms, a student lounge on the one side, and the health wing on the other. Student dorms were arranged on both sides of the clock tower, four floors above ground, and two additional floors that followed the schools complex underground. The second underground level was where I could find the laundry room and a storage supply room for basic essentials. There was enough housing that each student received their own private rooms, unless requested otherwise. Colt even let on that I had a larger room on the corner of the fourth floor, with my own bathroom included.

We walked inside where he popped into a small corner office quickly without notice. When he came back out a few seconds later, he had a folded paper in his hand which he handed to me. I opened it to find my schedule had already been made for my first six week module. I looked the schedule over and compared the class room numbers to the listed locations on my map.

 _Everyday_

 _0600-0730: Breakfast- Cafeteria_

 _1200-1330: Lunch- Cafeteria_

 _1800-1930: Dinner- Cafeteria_

 _Monday- Friday_

 _0800-0930: American History- Room 110_

 _1000-1130: Intro to Survival- Room 255_

 _1430-1600: Combat Basics- Gym 2_

 _Thursday_

 _2000: Private Training- Gym 2_

 _Saturday_

 _0900-1100: Equestrian- Meet outside at Clock Tower_

 _Sunday_

 _1400-1600: Medical Aid Basics- 330_

"Any questions?" Colt asked as he led me to an elevator bank.

"Uh…" I blinked down at the schedule, "do I start these classes tomorrow?"

He nodded as the elevator doors opened, "you've missed the first day of new classes, but that's alright."

I sighed as I stepped into the elevator after Colt.

Colt led me to my room on the fourth floor. He handed me a keycard for me to swipe to unlock the door; I walked inside and found the light switch on the wall. The room had white walls and a dark purple carpet. There was a single window, a wooden vanity set, a built in closet, and another door I presumed to be the bathroom. The bed was large, and centered on the far wall with white fluffy sheets and pillows. Next to each side of the queen bed sat two identical nightstands with small lamps; one side had an alarm clock. Moving my gaze around, I found that close to the bathroom door was a wooden desk and chair, and a bookshelf with textbooks labeled for the according classes on my schedule. On the wall above the desk hung a small flat screen television facing the bed; its remote was sitting on the desk.

"Welcome to the Assassin's Base, Dakota. Do you need anything before I go?"

I shook my head.

"Dakota, you should do yourself a favor and remove all of your piercings. In your combat classes, they are the first thing people will try to rip off your face."

I removed all of the piercings before Colt left the room, feeling too defeated to put up much of a fight.

The emptiness of the room reminded me of the empty feeling stationed inside myself. Something inside of me had changed more than the overwhelming depression amounting and the numbing sensation of heartache; I just couldn't put my finger on it. I started to unpack my clothes and hang them on the provided hangers in the closet. I moved into the bathroom to find that basic toiletries were provided and awaiting orderly on the sink. There was a clothes hamper in the bathroom, and a cabinet filled with fresh towels that made the room smell of linen.

After I finished packing, I looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand to find it was going on six o'clock and dinner was going to be served. I judged that if I headed down to the cafeteria early, not many students would be there yet; I could quickly slip in and eat without dragging too much attention to myself. I hurried myself to dress in something a little nicer, brushed through my hair, and put some makeup on just in case I did run into people.

By the time I reached the cafeteria, it was already completely full of students. I looked around the large room set up with circular tables near the center, and the buffet style serving stations around the outsides. Students were both sitting at tables with trays of food, and others were still standing in line. I followed suit of a student who grabbed a tray near the threshold of the cafeteria and moved into line. I was well aware that people were looking at me; they discovered the new girl in their mist. With the slow speed of the line, I looked over my options at each buffet station and only found a few things to eat; a dinner roll, a small serving of pasta, and a tossed salad. I grabbed a water bottle from a cooler at the end of the buffet line, and turned to find a seat. I scanned the room for opened options, and moved slowly through the crowd. There was only one vacant table near the back, and I went for it. I sat my tray down and glanced around the room again, but everyone seemed to stop caring I existed.

I started to eat my dinner when a group of students came to the table and sat down. They were all caught up in a conversation, not paying any mind to me. I stopped eating from sheer social anxiety. One of the guys, tall with blonde hair, made eye contact with me and smirked.

"What? Do we intimidate you?" The blonde asked.

I blinked and looked around at the strangers, "Uh…"

"I think that might be a yes," said a red haired kid with an English accent.

The group looked at me and chuckled.

I could feel my face turn beat red as I dropped my eyes to my tray.

The group had no intentions on talking to me. I slowly started to pick at my pasta and salad, but soon found that the presence of the students diminished my appetite. I picked my tray up and left the group, but before I threw away my food I picked up the untouched dinner roll and unopened bottle of water to take to my room.

The next morning, I dressed and headed down to my first class, skipping breakfast and awkward interactions all together. With my map, schedule, and American History textbook in hand, I moved through the Base to the classroom on the first floor. There were students waiting outside the door; I kept my distance and looked down at my feet until the teacher, a middle aged looking women who was short and walked with attitude, unlocked the door. As everyone piled inside, the teacher stopped me at the threshold.

"Dakota Verdi?" She asked softly.

"Uh…yes?" I answered nervously.

"I'm Mentor Deborah August. Welcome to the base," she smiled and held her arm out as to usher me into the room.

I found an empty seat near the back of the classroom as Mentor August situated herself in front of the class to begin the lecture. She instructed us to open our books to Chapter Two- The Seven Years War. As the lecture went on, I quickly discovered that I was learning a lot more than just French and Indian War, but the struggle of the Assassin's and Templar's during the time period. About halfway through the lecture, I realized my mouth was slightly agape in shock of what holes of history had been filled; everything made sense. Like Edward Braddock for example- a Templar gone haywire even for _their_ standards. Who would've known! My mind was blown for the entire class.

When first period ended, I slowly fumbled my way to Intro to Survival class. I was among the first few people inside the classroom, and took a vacant seat in the back. About five minutes before class was to begin, the mentor walked in and started to shuffle papers on his desk. He was a tall man with blonde hair and wore dark jeans and a blue and green checkered shirt. Suddenly the man stopped what he was doing and looked up at me. I quickly tried to avoid eye contact, but in the quick second it took me to look away, I watched his dazed expression turn to a smile.

The mentor made his way towards me.

"You must be Dakota," he stated nicely with a smooth British accent, extending his hand.

I looked up shyly and shook his hand, "I am."

"Mentor Dustin Brook; just call me Mr. Dustin. It's truly a pleasure to have you here. Come to my desk after class and I'll give you a typed copy of the notes you missed yesterday."

"Uh…thank you," I said as he turned and moved back to his desk.

The rest of the class filed inside while Mr. Dustin wrote notes on the board. On the very top of the whiteboard "DAY TWO" was written in red while below that had words such as _gather_ , _hunt_ , _store_ , and _locate_. I opened my notebook and started to write down what Mr. Dustin was putting on the board exactly as he had it set up. When he finished writing his categories, he opened his lecture with a recap of apparently "day one" of being stranded or lost somewhere. He reminded the class that humans are able to live without food for a little more than three weeks, three or four days without sleep, and only three days without water. Mr. Dustin also commented on the conditions of when and where a stranded person's lonely predicament; if caught in a harsh winter environment the chances of death without shelter is unavoidable. For this particular episode, the class was focusing on being stranded in the woods.

"Now class, what body temperature is considered a hypothermic state?"

"Anything under ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit or thirty-five degrees Celsius," I answered automatically before I could stop myself.

"Good, now what happens when you reach that state, Dakota?"

I felt as if the entire class was looking at me; my face was turning red. "Well…when your body is that cold your nervous system, heart, and other organs can't function properly. So the body systems start to shut down."

"Can you tell me some tall-tell symptoms?" Mr. Dustin prompted.

"Well…how severe are we talking?"

Mr. Dustin smiled, "let's say moderate hypothermia."

"Well…you'll shiver, of course. You start to lose your coordination, your speech could be slurred, confusion, and low energy. As your systems start to slow, so will things like your pulse and breathing rates."

"It sounds like a drunken person," Mr. Dustin joked to the class which let out a low course of laughter.

"A very _cold_ drunk," I commented mostly to myself; those close enough to hear snickered.

Mr. Dustin went forward with his lecture and continued until the end of the period. I stopped at his desk as I had been instructed to do so earlier. Mr. Dustin handed me the typed outline of notes of "DAY ONE," along with a class syllabus that broke down every day in the six week module. He took the time to explain everything to me, including his belief that learning to survive was a matter of hands-on learning, but the first week was meant to engage the students and make them aware of how to survive five days on their own. I looked over the class calendar; week one was indeed a breakdown of what to expect each of the five days in the wilderness. Week two started the hands-on portion such as learning how to make fire, finding or making shelter, and how to find a proper water source. Week three, the midterm week, called for stepping out of the classroom with the goals of learning the difference between plants that can harm you and the plants that you can eat. Week four would include learning how to set traps and snares, while week five was committed to the ways of properly packing a hiking backpack, and how to set up a campsite correctly to animal-proof it. The final week was the most surprising- either the student's choice between a paper test on Friday, or taking a camping trip with Mr. Dustin and the rest of the classmates who take this option.

"And other teachers are okay with this?" I asked about the camping trip.

"Some are and some are not. That is why it is not mandatory to go, but if you did decide to go along you have to make sure it is okay with all of your teachers. The trip starts Monday morning and we would return Thursday afternoon."

I nodded, "okay. Well thank you, Mr. Dustin."

"Not a problem, Dakota. If you ever need anything let me know."

I went back to my room to drop off my belongings before heading to the cafeteria, where I simply grabbed what I wanted to eat and returned to my room. I quietly ate my food and channel surfed on the TV before settling on some daytime hospital soap opera. Once I finished eating, I readied myself for my Combat Basics class. I was most nervous for this class, since I have no background in fighting or any previous training. The thought of getting my ass kicked in class on a daily bases was terrifying to say the least.

Slowly, I walked to Gym Two, where people were already filing into what seemed like locker rooms. I stood near the door for a few moments and examined the gym. It had a high ceiling with metal rafters hanging from above. The floor and walls were completely covered in thick blue padding, excluding the far left wall that was made into a climbable rock wall. The second story of the gym had a small catwalk around the perimeter beside what seemed to be mirrors.

"Two way mirrors," A man said from behind me.

I jumped and turned to look at the man.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked, "Mentor Erik Ackermann. You're Dakota Verdi, no?"

I nodded, "I am. Do you teach this class?"

"I do, along with Mentor De. He helps teach martial arts to students struggling to grasp the concepts in class."

"Well…he might be seeing a lot of me," I sighed, looking around the room again. "Two way mirrors, you said?"

"Yes, the recruiters and mentors like to observe the progress of students. We also film each class session and take careful notes on everyone."

"I see," I nodded slowly. "How are we graded in these classes, actually?"

Mentor Erik smiled, "we grade based on progression and attitudes. Your final consists of performing one skill for me and Mentor De to grade upon."

" _Attitudes_?" I asked, confused on how an attitude could possibly affect a class grade.

"If a student is refusing to learn or is fearful in their own abilities, we will have them repeat the course. One is to make the student understand how strict we can be, and the other is to reinforce while building confidence."

"Oh, I guess that makes sense."

Class started a few minutes later. Mentor Erik started to pair every student with a partner, but soon found out that he had an odd number. I just happened to be the only one without a partner, and I felt as if everyone was staring at me.

"Dakota, you'll just be paired up with me then," Mentor Erik smiled.

My eyes dropped to the floor in embarrassment, "okay."

Mentor De stepped into the middle of the gym and began reciting instructions. We were learning how to defend ourselves, or as the Mentor's called it- 360 Self Defense. We were instructed to keep moving at all times during the drill, otherwise a weakness could be found. Mentor Erik explained we needed to use our arms to defend blows, and keep them at a particularly wide angle. He stressed that we all needed to keep our hands open and flat during this exercises as a building block to what else was to come in our lessons. Everyone was instructed to practice defending their partner's blows for two minutes. I turned to Mentor Erik completely petrified as Mentor De started the clock.

"Please, God, don't hurt me," I said.

He laughed, "I promise I won't."

Mentor Erik started the exercise easy; bringing his extended arms down slowly as I deflected each with my own arms. He started to pick up the pace and would switch from swinging high to low and vice versa. By the end of the two minute drill, we were fastest two in the gym. Mentor Erik smiled at me and offered praise. I simply smile, really not knowing what I did so well. The class moved onward in lessons on how to see a punch coming, how to throw a punch, and progressed into how to defend yourself in a headlock. At the end of class, my arms felt heavy, and there was an ache in my hands from punching life-like dummies. Mentor Erik was impressed for how well I did on my first day, and I nervously laughed; I simply didn't want my ass handed to me on my first day of class.

Through the next few days, I learned about the Templar influence over the colonies and the American Revolution, how desperate you have to be to survive in the wilderness, and how to properly defend myself against a knife and pistol. I started to make friends with a few people in my history class, too. The first person I befriended was Marc, an Assassin-bred kid from Canada. He introduced me to Amy, a British girl who, like me, was new to the Assassin's. They accepted me enough to invite me to sit with them at meals, where I met the rest of their crew. There was Sofia from Spain, who was an Assassin for five years and placed at the base to refine her IT skills. Secondly, there was James, an Assassin from the state of Washington who had been rescued from the clutches of the Templar's at Abstergo Industries. I was happy I had people to talk too, my room was getting quite lonesome by Tuesday night's dinner, but I still wasn't quite myself around these new acquaintances.

Thursday was my first private training with Colt in Gym Two. We refined things that I had been taught in my combat classes according to what Mentor Erik and Mentor De had written about me in my progress notes. Once Colt went over the things I had learned in class, he moved onward to running and climbing. He timed each running and climbing exercise I did and made note on my execution and timing. The goal Colt set for me was to improve my running and climbing times before moving on to more complicated things such as parkour and wall ejects. For the remainder of my private training, Colt took me to the weight room to work on my strength and conditioning.

The only two classes I still needed to participate in were Equestrian on Saturday and Medical Aid on Sunday. Both were easy, to say the least. Saturday morning I met with the rest of the Equestrian class and learned how to take care of the horses. Afterwards, we were all able to go out on a small ride to get a feel on what it was like to ride a horse. Medical Aid was with Doctor Means and his head nurse, Ava. They went over basic things such as medical instruments, proper hand washing, and how to sterilize equipment. About every question the two instructors asked I had an answer too, regardless if I spoke out loud or not. It was a lot of recap from my nursing program at the university; the topic came easily to me. Doctor Means promised the class that it would get more in depth in later lessons, including CPR and phlebotomy. I couldn't wait to get into the more hands-on topics the class had to offer.


	8. Seven- Dakota

**_Seven- Dakota_**

"Jesus, can you give me a second?" I was panting, almost ready to puke.

Private lessons with Colt, I quickly learned, were absolutely brutal. He pushed my limits too far until I was collapsed on the floor dry heaving. After three months of this intense CrossFit-gone-wrong, one would think you would get use to it. But it seemed every lesson was increasingly getting worse, like he was trying to push me through training by six years. Colt claimed he was catching me up to the status I should have been if my dad had trained me all these years. I called bullshit, but I gave up fighting and just submitted myself to these workouts designed by Satan himself. The first few private lessons reinforced what I learned in my Self Defense classes. Colt moved onto gymnastics for a few lessons, and then worked on my running speed until I completed a 100 meter dash in thirteen seconds. The worst part of the training was learning the style and technique of parkour. I was starting to become fast enough, but Colt still pressured me into jumping higher, reaching farther, reacting quicker. He would request that I took extra time out of my day, time I didn't have with my homework load this semester, to hit the gym and lift weights until my arms fell out of their sockets. I was making progress, but not enough to impress my recruiter.

Today's lesson started me with weapons, sword fighting to be exact. There was no starting out slow and casual, it was just right into fast pace slashing and dodging. Colt told me I needed to learn the hard way to allow my "ancestral instincts" to kick in. He refused to baby me through the techniques of sword fighting, and for it, I've gotten my knuckles cut open quite a few times already. Colt highly believed I had to learn with music blaring through the entire gymnasium. He told me I needed to learn with my eyes, not with my ears just yet, and that finding a rhythm was easier with the beat of the music. It was like this for every lesson, regardless of what I was learning that day. I just think he's fucking crazy.

"Your enemies won't grant you with a break, Dakota." Colt said holding his sword directly at my throat.

I coughed hard, "Dude, I'm not going out in the field next week. And if I was it wouldn't be with a damn sword."

"I've told you before, you need to learn the roots of fighting-"

"-I know, I get it!" I yelled, getting myself to my feet again.

I half expected Colt to say something to zen me out, to tell me my rage needed redirected or something. He didn't, and I was glad, because he always said it in a cocky voice that made me want to throat punch him. Colt only readied his stance to go again. I followed suit, praying I would have at least a centimeter of uncut skin on my knuckles today.

After my lesson, I dragged myself to my fourth floor bedroom, hands wrapped in bandages and every muscle in my body screaming for relief. On my bed laid opened nursing books and notes spread out that needed studied for a test tomorrow morning- a test that, if I failed, would deny me the chance to work in the health clinic next semester as a Nursing Assistant. It would also mean I needed to take the Practical Nursing course with less clinical hours, causing a six week course to turn into twelve before I could move into advanced classes. I marked my pages and placed them on my desk, knowing that I would be cramming this information an hour before the test. I downed two Ibuprofen tablets and changed into the loosest fitting clothes I owned before crawling onto a ball on my bed.

My Friday morning started late. I jolted myself out my sleep to find I had ten minutes before having to report to my Nursing Practices test.

"Fuck!" I jumped up and changed into whatever clothes were closest to me.

I rushed down to the health wing and into the classroom with only a minute left to spare before our instructor closed the door. Most of my classmates snickered and rolled their eyes at my entrance, since this happened after every private lesson. There was no use in making excuses; my fellow classmates were in such high ranks they were only taking these classes for basic field knowledge before their deployment. The test was passed out to every student, and as I watched the white papers of doom slowly approaching my way, I had the sickening feeling I was ultimately screwed.

Last to finish the test, I grabbed my belongings and made my way to the door when my instructor called for me to stop. Mentor Juliana was not the easiest teacher to please, always ready with a chastisement when a student was on the verge of failing. My stomach instantly dropped, knowing my consistent lateness to her exams was starting to make me look like a very bad student. Mentor Juliana was one to drop students from the nursing program at any stage, and I might be next. I took a seat close to her desk, her dark eyes watching me as I crossed the classroom.

"Miss Verdi, I do not want to hear any excuses from you," She started with acidity; all I could do was look downcast to the floor. "I know you have private lessons with your recruiter on Thursday nights; perhaps the two of you should consider moving them to another day. Your interruptions before a test cannot be tolerated. I will be surprised if you passed this exam, anyway. And if you have failed this exam I will put in a personal note to make sure you will be unable to retake the course."

My eyes snapped to hers, "but, Mentor, this is my specialty."

"Why, for God's sake, have you already chosen a field specialty? You're an _initiate_."

"It's what I want to do," I said with decreasing conviction.

"You should be more worried about getting with the status quo of an Assassin before jumping into a field specialty, Miss Verdi."

I dropped my eyes again, starting to tune out the lecture so it could just be over already. _Just tell me I'm dropped, damn it._

"I've seen your schedule," Mentor Juliana continued, "You've overloaded yourself with classes most students wouldn't even _think_ about taking within their first six months here. Some Mentors here might praise you for it. But I think it's pure stupidity."

"So are you dropping me or what?" I snapped, glaring at her, "Because I'm not going to sit here just to be insulted for your entertainment, _Mentor_."

"Then let us check your test, hm? Let's see the damage."

Mentor Juliana clicked her red pen and peered over my test. She started to review my answers, face hard as stone. After looking over the first page without making any deductions, she flipped to the next page with such haste the page ripped a little at the staple. As each question she went through went without error, I could see her forehead crease in frustration. She checked the fifth and final page, without correction, and sighed heavily.

"You receive a hundred percent," she mumbled, "You are dismissed."

I left the classroom with a face set to look humble, but on the inside, and once into the empty hallway, my smirk of victory shined.

The ending of classes that Friday was the ending of another semester. I stared at my new schedule that was to start Monday, waiting in line for the library to receive my new textbooks. After the mishap with Mentor Juliana, Colt and I spoke and decided to change my private lessons to Saturday evenings. It was a good change that allowed me more study time along with opening up opportunities to get a jump start on my clinical hours in the health wing. I filled the schedule with a Renaissance History class, the next Practical Nursing class I needed to take, Intro to Weaponry, and Self Defense Level III as my final class for the day. For my weekend activities, I took up an early morning mixed martial arts class on Saturday's, and an evening course of Fencing on Sunday's.


	9. Eight- Colt

_Eight- Colt_

"Now, onto the newly recruited," said Doctor Means, dismissing a previous spat between two mentors.

"Colt, you have successfully recruited Dakota Verdi, daughter of Master Assassin Antonio Verdi. What is your impression of the new initiate?" Asked Mentor Christina with an arched eyebrow raised and a look of annoyance.

I straightened myself, "She's a fast learner. She was driven to the Brotherhood by the death of her mother. I fear she may become vengeful in the future."

"What will you do to stop her tastes for revenge, Colt?" Mentor Christina chirped, snapping her icy glare to me.

"Teaching her the tenets of the Creed early, I believe, would help veer her from-"

"-all of the students here are taught our Creed, Colt. What _else_ are you going to do?" Mentor De interjected.

"Whatever the council suggests is right," I sighed.

The room went silent for a moment, tension still thick from an argument over sending certain students into the field early.

Mentor Erik cleared his throat, "She is quite the fast learner- that Dakota girl. Truly promising in such a young Assassin-"

"-she does not impress me," Mentor Christina snapped and dismissed the conversation. "Colt you may leave and wait for deliberation to be concluded."

"I couldn't agree more," smiled Mentor Juliana, folding her hands upon another.

I bowed my head to the mentors and left the room. I stood outside of the closed door as the council started to talk about Doctor Means' latest contribution to the Assassin's. He invented some sort of machine to help the process of training new recruits. It was the entire reason why I had to be present for Dakota's first evaluation. She had only been here at the base for six months, and she surly had impressed Mentor Erik and Mentor De in her first two Combat classes. Dakota had even enrolled herself in Doctor Means' Medical Procedures as well as his Nursing Practices courses, in which she passed with flying colors. My own private trainings with her caused her to be one of the fastest runners I have yet to see, but her climbing speed needed improvement. I had hope that she could be considered for the Doctor's missions, but after my lovely meeting with the mentors there was no hope for the girl.

From where I stood with the rest of the recruiters, we could hear incoherent mutters from inside quickly escalate into another shouting match. I believe it was mostly Mentor Christina's voice over-shouting the others in the room in complete objection to another's idea. She was good for that. None of her IT students had even been selected for evaluation, and so the entire idea of these mission trainings was bitter to her. It was all over in a few minutes, the voices slowly turning down in volume. Another twenty minutes passed until the door to the room opened again.

Doctor Means stepped out, "the following recruiters may stay for further evaluations." He went through an entire list of eleven people before confidently stating, "And Colt Burdett."

 _Holy shit_ , I thought to myself, _Dakota still has a chance._

All twelve selected recruiters entered the room; Mentor Christina refused to look in my general direction. Doctor Means took his seat and shifted through the papers in front of him, organizing them in a particular order. He folded his hands on the tabletop and looked at the line of recruiters.

"With my invention," Doctor Means sighed, "I am looking for students who are quick, gifted, and strong. By 'quick,' they need to be smart and agile. By 'gifted,' they must be a natural Assassin. And by 'strong,' they need to have a special type of strength to them; a personal strength. We will be watching your recruits over the course of the next few weeks, and we will choose who gets to enter the training stages for this special mission. The winners will be announced afterwards."

 _Dakota,_ I thought triumphantly, _get your game face on._


	10. Nine- Dakota

_Nine- Dakota_

The entire school was called upon one Friday evening for a special announcement. We, like cattle shuffling into a slaughter house, moved into the auditorium and were seated by rank. The more experienced Assassin's were to sit in the back to watch over everyone of lower rank, newer arrivals were to be seated in the front and stay attentive during the presentation. I took my seat between James and Sofia about three rows back and center stage. Taking a quick glance around the room, I noticed that there was a lot more bodies then I was use to seeing in the cafeteria. There were at least three or four hundred people being seated before counting the two rows of mentors sitting on the stage.

"Wow," I said turning back around, "there are a lot of us here."

James snorted, "You think _this_ is a lot of people? This doesn't even half the Templar's."

I blinked at him, "aren't there others though? Like Assassin's in the field?"

"Some- not enough," James shrugged.

The overhead lights dimmed sending a hush among the crowd. On stage, a mentor with long blonde hair rose from her seat and walked to the microphone.

"Good evening to you all," she said with a crisp British accent. "I am Mentor Christina Woods; some of you know me from IT trainings, while others have yet to have me for class."

There was a slight cheer from somewhere near the back.

Mentor Christina smiled, "ah, yes, that would be them. Now, we have gathered you here all tonight for a very _special_ reason. You all are growing your skills to be Assassin's here, all knitting together from your backgrounds for a greater cause. Some of you have been trained all of your lives for the chance to take down our enemies, while the rest of you have come here wanting to better yourselves."

Her introduction speech drawled on with the same material I've been preached since Colt showed up at my door.

I shifted down in my seat, resting my arm on the armrest and putting my head in my hand.

James casted a sideways glance at me, and I rolled my eyes.

"Can we hurry this up a bit?" I whispered to him, "I still have that Renaissance History homework to finish."

James smirked and rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly before returning his full attention to Mentor Christina's speech.

"For the past few months, the Mentor's have been collecting progress notes from each recruiter as well as teacher's notes from _all_ of your classes. We have also collected the video logs from each gym session you have attended- from class and private lessons, and have created files for _every_ student here. As a collective group we Mentor's sat down and reviewed each and every single file. _Why_ , do you ask? The Assassin's are looking for new ways to innovate the training process, to quickly train someone to the highest level achievable in half the time. With the help of a top secret invention by Mentor, Doctor Means, we think we can achieve our dreams. This invention will help us put new and highly efficient Assassin's into the field so they can help put an end to the Templar's.

"Together, we narrowed down the students to specific standards for this new mission. We have picked _six_ students from varying ranks that meet these standards to participate in Phase One. They will be given new classes and training that are designed to be harder and much faster for this mission. Then there will be a review period of these six selected students, and two will be dismissed from the elevated training sequences. The four that remain will continue with Phase Two training, until yet again another review period. The last two people left in the course will embark onto Phase Three, which will be complete preparation for the mission. At the very end, one person will be chosen to use Doctor Means's invention for this prestigious mission.

"Now- for the six selected students to be announced, please come onto the stage to be recognized." Mentor Christina opened a slip of paper she had been holding, "First, from Rank five…Jeffery Williams- Canada."

There was a cheer from the back of the auditorium as a figure made its way forward to the stage. Once he was standing next to the Mentor, he shook her hand with a smile. He had black hair, very tall and looked strong. He wasn't exactly the most handsome guy I've ever laid eyes on- quite the opposite in fact, because he constantly looked vicious.

"From rank five…McKenzie Franklin- England."

A lean and pretty girl with red curly hair moved onto the stage and shook hands with both the Mentor and the fellow rank five.

"From rank four…Adrian Aleit- Germany."

The process continued with rank four's Ekundayo from Africa. The second to last person to be called was a rank three, Roger Greene from the United States. He was the only one I recognized; I shared both Renaissance History and Self Defense Level III classes with Roger, but I never once spoke a word to him. He was a handsome looking guy, blonde hair and blue eyes, and muscles that told me he has been doing this Assassin thing for a long time. I clapped for him though, since he was an underdog against all rank fives and fours. Roger moved onstage and shook hands with everyone before taking his spot next to Ekundayo in the line of the specially chosen Assassin's. Mentor Christina waited for Roger to be in position before returning to her paper. She screwed up her face for a second as she read the last name listed with a shake of her head.

She brought the microphone up to her lips, "finally, our sixth selected student is from rank one, Dakota Verdi- United States of America."

My mouth fell open and my entire body froze. It seemed everyone else around me had done the same. James and Sofia were staring at me, offering me no help to get my brain back on track of what bodily function I was to use next or even comfort and support. Slowly, very cautiously, I stood. There was no cheering, no clapping…just utter shocked silence and staring faces. Trying to move forward through the people still seated and looking up at me in the row was embarrassing. No one stood to make my passage easier, leaving me to stumble and squeeze past awkwardly. When I reached the very end of the row, a girl in the last seat put a foot out that I did not see, but my foot met her ankle, and sent me crashing down onto the floor. Lying on the auditorium floor in that moment made me wish for death to keep me from the equally embarrassing recovery while people snickered. As I stood, I offered the smug looking girl a glare of pure feminine piss off. With as much grace as I could muster, I moved to the stairs off the side of the stage. I could feel my hands shaking from nerves, from the threat of overwhelming tears of frustration. I moved towards Mentor Christina, and like the others, shook her hand along with the five other students picked. However no one seemed to genuinely accept the handshake over more than a have-to basis until I reached Roger on the very end. He smiled and shook my hand, even offering a few words of congratulations.

The mentors kept the six of us after the presentation concluded. They went over some basic rules with us about our trainings, and stressed that everything must be kept confidential. The six of us received new schedules that started immediately, and all other classes were no longer in our curriculum until we were removed from the special trainings. Nothing else was mentioned about the mission with Dr. Means' new invention, and nor was it hinted on what the invention even was. I kept to myself the entire meeting with crossed arms and down casted eyes. I was so confused and confounded all I wanted to do was retreat to my room and hide under my blankets. Why did the mentor's pick me? Compared to the other Assassin's-in-training here, I was a worthless initiate that can't do anything with weaponry to save my life. By the end of the meeting, I came to the conclusion that I was only filling in the sixth spot so they had someone easy to knock out of the contest. It was either that, or they just wanted a human punching bag to use.

"Now, you young Assassin's must remember the three tenets of our Creed," Mentor Christina said pacing slowly in front of us. "Stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent. Hide in plain sight. Never compromise the Brotherhood. "

"Nothing is true; everything is permitted," we six selected Assassin's said together.

She eyed each of us, "you are dismissed."

I walked away from the auditorium knowing that on Monday morning at eight o'clock sharp, I was to enter the gym for skills training with my six new competitors. Colt was running up behind me, telling me to wait up, but I just kept walking.

"Hey, Dakota, I have your file for you!" He said at a final attempt to catch my attention.

He succeeded.

I stopped and slowly turned to face him, "my _file_?"  
"The file the Mentor's made for you and all of the other competitors. They gave them to the recruiters of each student so they could review it." He handed over a folder with my name marked across the top.

Taking the folder hesitantly, my frown deepened. "Do you know why they picked me?"

"Everything is in that folder for your information."

"Colt," I snapped, "I don't care what they have written in this folder. I want to know why the hell they decided to embarrass the fuck out of me and not any of these other first rank kids!"

Looking a little shocked, Colt answered my question, "they like the quick pace you can learn at, Dakota. That's it. That's the big secret."

"Oh…okay," I said a little guilty for snapping out, "Sorry, I just…I just don't want this."

"Why not? I had to fight tooth and nail to get you even _considered_."  
Eyeing him with heat, I growled, "why, Colt? Why? I'm worthless compared to everyone else. I can't do this shit! I'm going to be knocked out first round so why the hell do you even care?"

Colt frowned and turned to leave, "because you sell yourself short."

I made my way back to my bedroom. On my desk laid the opened Renaissance History textbook and the homework that no longer was a requirement to complete. I threw away the homework pages and sat down with my folder placed on the desk. Flipping the folder open, I found a copy of the project's mission statement and the notes taken at every session about me by anonymous mentors. I started to read the first page which said nothing but good things about me in my learning abilities. The same could be said for the next two; however they both made comments about my low rank. When I reached the fourth page, my self esteem dropped completely. The mentor that wrote these notes hated me for several reasons: my low rank, inexperience, lack of knowledge of the Assassin's, and even putting snide comments about the way I looked. There were some very good comments, however. A few commented on how quickly I learned, and how much effort I put into my trainings. These few comments didn't help me regain any confidence; they were probably all being nice and tried to show sympathy to the new initiate. Feeling hurt by the mentors' words, I skipped the rest of the note assessments and found a notice from Doctor Means.

 _We all know that the Assassin's are quite outmatched by the wealth and power of the Templar Order. The Assassin's cannot train enough people to replace those who have perished with this ongoing struggle. It is up to us here at the Assassin Base to innovate the way we train our upcoming Assassin's. I am pleased to announce that my invention is finished, and I have tested the machine personally to ensure that, if properly conducted, it will cause no harm. The three phases of training will ensure the best student for this special mission; they will ready the student for what is to come. I will have the final say in who will be using my machine, simply because I know what it takes to use it. I am looking for someone who is dedicated, quick, smart, and strong- but a special kind of strong. The reason behind this is to ensure the best and fastest results for our young Assassin's, and to gain as much as possible from the experience._

It was not even four weeks ago that Colt was screaming at me during my private lessons. I couldn't do anything right then; what changed in these last few weeks that made me worth fighting with the Assassins so early? He kept screaming at me, reminding me at how slow I was at running, climbing… _everything_. I was pathetic at parkour, mostly held back by the fear of falling and breaking every bone in my body. Colt tried to teach me how to fight with swords and other weaponry of the sort, but he wasn't teaching me the steps, just simply attacking me in a fend-for-yourself style. He even slashed me across the arm with the blade of a sword one night. I had gasped in pain and started to apply pressure to the bloodied area. Colt screamed at me for that, too. He asked me what I would have done if I was in a real battle, and mocked my nursing actions. Colt continuously insulted my intelligence by repeatedly calling me stupid, and mocked me until I wanted to cry.

I remembered one incident where I was in my Intro to Weapons class. We were learning how to wield weapons used in martial arts. We started out using wooden swords and paired up with a partner to practice. My partner had accidentally slashed down on my wrist with quite a lot of force; actually I was lucky my wrist didn't break from the encounter. He apologized and I accepted it, but it was what came after that bugged me. A girl in my class, a rank four, started taunting me.

"Awe, little Dakota can't take a hit. Poor little thing," she started, and her friends laughed.

I turned my back to her and went to make my way towards the locker rooms.

"Welcome to the Assassin's, learn to take a hit. Mommy and daddy aren't here to save you anymore, sweetheart."

I stopped in my tracks and turned to face her.

"Oh look, she's mad. What you going to do, Dakota? You have nothing on a rank four."

"I'm going to tell you to shut the fuck up and leave me alone. I don't give a shit what rank you are, or about _you_ to begin with."

"Hey!" She stepped towards me, "respect your higher ranks!"

The girl went to grab my hair with one hand, and pulled back a fist with the other. I quickly dodged the hand aimed for my hair and spun behind her. I grabbed the wrist she had pulled back and twisted it. She spun around and reached for my throat, but I retaliated against her downward grab with a forceful flat-footed kick to her stomach. It knocked the wind out of her, and while she was distracted, I quickly rushed in and wrapped my arms around her waist, picking her up, and slamming her onto the ground. When I started to move away from the defeated rank four, everyone in the class was staring at me. I looked around at everyone with the same angered gaze before trying to retreat once more. Then, in the next moment came the most hated noise I had become accustomed too- Colt screaming at me.

"Dakota, what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" He was rushing forward towards me, about to make a huge scene in front of everyone. "You stupid, good for nothing-"

"-Colt that is enough!" Shouted someone from the back of the gym.

I turned to find Mentor Erik pushing himself through the gathered crowd of students with a very stern look on his face.

"Mentor Erik, you-"

"-Shut up, Colt. Miss Verdi was acting in her defense. And matter of a fact, I believe I will be taking away your private training privileges with Dakota starting immediately- until you learn how to coach properly."

"What?" Colt gasped, "And who will be training her then?"

Mentor Erik clasped his hands behind his back, "I will. Eight P.M. Saturday nights in gym two. Is that correct Miss Verdi?"

I jumped at the sudden question, "uh…yes, that's correct."

"Add on Monday night at Five P.M. to your schedule as well, Miss Verdi."

"Yes, Mentor," I nodded.

I was still shocked how Mentor Erik practically came to my rescue. My first private training with the mentor was a pleasant experience. He praised me on everything Colt told me I was doing wrong. Mentor Erik was impressed with how fast my running times were, and how quickly I could dodge and block. He said with a little more practice I would be able to strike like lightening.

Mentor Erik introduced me to the Sai blades in our second trainings together. He showed me how to spin the blades to go back and forth between an attack stance and a defensive stance. Slowly, he started to teach me how to defend against attacks using the blades. Defending turned into countering moves of my opponents. Countering moves turned into learning how to attack. Mentor Erik would use a variety of different weapons against my Sai blades, prepping me to expect different tactics to each weapon. The mentor found that I had somewhat of a fascination for using blades, and started to teach me how to throw knives. It helped me learn how to aim as well, a skill Colt quite easily overlooked. As my aim improved, Mentor Erik introduced me into learning how to shoot pistols.

Soon, we started a training schedule. On Monday's we worked on refining my skills with the Sai blades, throwing knives, and pistols. Saturday's were dedicated to working on my strength and conditioning, climbing various platforms in the gym, using all of my senses, and stealth. Mentor Erik even allowed me to use hidden blades strapped to my arms, which upon a flick of my wrist, ejected a silver blade. He taught me assassination techniques and how to use my surroundings to my advantage- including tricks to performing air assassinations.

"Dakota," Mentor Erik said nearing an end of a Saturday lesson, "Colt had written in your recruitment notes that you have the sense."

"The _sense_?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

He chuckled, "Eagle Vision."

" _Oh_ … _that_."

"So it is true then? You can use the sense?"

"I guess- I mean I don't make a habit of doing so, but I _have_ used it before."

"Eagle Vision helps the Assassin's who have unlocked the sense to indicate their allies, enemies, and targets. Perhaps you should experiment with it some more, Dakota."

I shrugged, "I really don't like it."

"Why is that?"

"Well I guess after having kids make fun of you in elementary school, you tend to not like it so much."

Mentor Erik laughed and clasped his hand on my shoulder, "Simply because they do not understand. Dakota, you are quite the promising young Assassin, I must admit that."

After the incident with Colt, we did not speak for awhile. It took him about three weeks after the screaming incident in the gym to approach me again. I was sitting in the Base's library alone, working on some homework in the peace between the shelves filled with books. It was the quietest place in the Base on a Friday night, considering no one wanted to participate in a late night study party when class had let out for the week. If it hadn't been for my early Saturday morning martial arts class, I would have adventured out on the town with my friends that night. As I read through my textbook on the search for answers of a worksheet on Renaissance History, I heard the muffled footsteps upon the carpeting approaching. I looked up from my textbook, but I did not see anyone approaching my corner through the bookshelves. With a few concentrated blinks, I activated Eagle Vision to find Colt walking towards me with an impassive expression. I rolled my eyes, and returned to my textbook as he approached.

He stopped in front of my table, "Dakota, may I sit with you?"

"Knock your socks off."

"Well," Colt pulled out a chair and sat down, "I…uh…want to apologize for what was said at the gym. I was upset because anything you do wrong comes back on me. I didn't see what had happened, exactly, and I just watched you beat the hell out of a rank four for seemingly no reason."

"There _was_ a reason," I said smartly.

"Yes, and I know that now. But, Dakota, I am sorry for what I said."

"I forgive you, Colt."

"Enough to allow me to train you again?"

I folded my hands on my book and thought for a minute. "I want to finish out this module with Mentor Erik. He's been teaching me a lot of things and we're in the middle of some important lessons."

"I understand. Thank you, Dakota. I'll leave you to your work," Colt stood up and pushed his chair under the table.

"See ya later," I smiled back, and returned to my homework.

I sat back in my chair with a heavy sigh, remembering how crazy these past few weeks had been. I wished Colt didn't try so hard to have me considered for this mission. I knew that I was nowhere close to being qualified enough for being sent out on a mission; the higher ranks deserved the opportunity, not a rank one initiate. I didn't care how well I was progressing in my private trainings; it wasn't enough experience to outweigh the other's accomplishments. There was the overwhelming feeling that I was only picked for my father's previous standings with the Assassin Brotherhood, and that angered me. Just because my father was a Master Assassin should not give me any special standing here at the Base.

Trying to stop my frustrations, I closed the folder and put it inside one of the desk drawers. I readied myself to take a shower where the hot water could melt away my frustrations. I retired early for the night and fell asleep, my body exhausted from everything these past few months.


	11. Ten- Dakota

_Ten- Dakota_

Monday came too quickly, and I was so nervous. I stood in the gym next to the other selected students, shaking like a leaf while they were all calm and collected. Roger Greene turned and offered me a small smile. I could only offer a sad excuse of a smirk in return.

"You nervous?" He asked me.

I nodded.

"Don't worry, I won't let them gang up on you, rookie."

"Oh…uh, thanks," I blinked at him.

"We could be partners, if you'd like."

I smiled, "I wouldn't mind that."

And so, the class started with ease. The first skills we were to learn in Phase One included blending, picking locks and pockets, and the ability to eavesdrop and follow people without being detected. We started with learning how to pick locks. The mentors sat the six of us down at a table with wooden chests and old fashioned lock picking tools set out to use. I sat down in front of my chosen chest, and looked it over with no idea at what I was actually trying to examine.

Mentor Erik walked in front of the table, "to pick locks, you must use a pick and a tension wrench provided to you all. Place the wrench at the bottom of the key hole and turn it to determine which way the cylinder inside must turn. Once the way is determined, keep your wrench in position. Use the pick to feel the pins inside. Push the pins up with your pick; it is up to you to figure the rest out. The first person to unlock their chest gets three extra points. You may now begin."

I picked up a pick and a wrench from the table and blinked at the chest for a few moments.

"Mentor Erik," Jeffery Williams spoke up, "could you go over the directions one more time, please?"

"No, it is your responsibility to listen and understand instructions the first time. They will not be repeated."

"But Mentor-"

"The answer is no, Jeffery."

As Mentor Erik and Jeffery bickered over instructions, I thought back to what the instructions had been. I inserted my tension wrench into the bottom of the keyhole and applied pressure to the right. I heard a faint ticking noise and felt quite a lot of resistance, so I tried turning the tension to the left instead. There were no audible clicks to be heard, so I decided to try keeping the pressure with the wrench at this angle. I inserted my pick and felt along the pins very lightly to get a feel of what was inside the lock. I pushed my pick back to the very last pin, and started to push it upwards. I heard a sudden _tick_ as the pin moved upwards. I moved on to the three other pins, trying my best to push each pin upwards. Once I believed to have all of the pins pushed upwards, I turned the tension wrench. The lock opened with a click. The bickering student and mentor fell silent. I pulled off the lock and put my tools alongside the chest the way they had been originally placed on the table. I opened the chest and quietly sat back, folding my hands on the table with an impassive expression. The feeling of being stared at was quite unnerving, but I refused to look at anything but my hands on the table.

Mentor Erik moved to investigate my chest, "this is not your first lock picking is it, Dakota?"

"Er, Mentor, that's the first lock I've ever picked."

"Ah, and how did you know to unlock it?"

"I…I just followed the instructions, sir," I muttered.

The room was silent for a few moments.

"Congratulations, Dakota, you've earned three extra points for today."

For the next few weeks, the mentors took us to the streets of England. We practiced our skills in blending; I considered it the art of acting natural in public. The mentors would preach to us that hiding in plain sight was part of the tenets of the Creed we needed to uphold, and that we had the responsibility as Assassins to carry out the ability in any situation. Blending was not limited to disappearing within a crowd, it also meant we had to learn how to use the crowd to our advantage to perform assassinations, pick pocketing, and planting information on a person. All the while, the mentors had us get use to wearing hoods during these trainings. It was an important step in the training process as some people in society would view someone with their hood up as suspicious or dangerous. If we could successfully pass in public while donning a hood, we achieved a new level in our blending skills. We learned how to pick pocket with an effective ease. The trick to upfront pick pocketing someone was breaking constant eye contact; Mentor Christina had the ability to steal someone's wallet while shaking their hand. Stealing from someone from behind was actually very easy; one must calculate the amount of pressure and sets of eyes upon them, while being quick enough to grab the items and moving away. The last few weeks concentrated on following and eavesdropping without detection. The skills of blending and hiding came into play with following, as the targets would not see their assailant when performed correctly.

In my case, I seemed to blend with the crowd quite well, even while wearing a hood. I neither caused to strange looks nor provoked any comments from the people around me. It was if I was invisible amongst the people surrounding me. I could follow targets and eavesdrop on the conversation without leaving any hint that I was doing so. My pick pocketing skills were good enough to pass; stealing upfront still was an area of difficulty. On the last week of pick pocket training, when I was able to steal Mentor De's watch off his wrist without detection, the mentors saw fit to pass me in the skill.

The Mentor's granted us two weeks off between the first and second Phase of our trainings. On the last day of the Phase One trainings, our recruiters received a folder with the notes taken about the skills learned and the past month and a half. Colt smiled at me as he flipped through the contents of the folder, and I was ringing my hands together as he teased me with the truth. With that same asshole smirk Colt seemed to possess, he started to tut at me and shaking his head.

"Come the fuck on, Colt! Just tell me what the verdict is," I was begging him.

He looked up at me a smile, "you're moving onto Phase Two, Dakota."

I jumped up off my bed and let out an excited scream, even flinging my arms around Colt.


	12. Eleven- Roger

_Eleven- Roger_

The day I met Dakota I knew I was hopeless. She was, at first, so shy and timid I wanted to take her under my wing and teach her everything I could to keep her from falling short during Phase One. Her eyes hinted of depression and she had a habit of keeping to herself, arms wrapped close while she walked with as much space between people as possible; it echoed loneliness. Then, I learned that the initiate had a few tricks up her sleeve against all of her competitors. Dakota was so _fast_ \- at learning, running, pick-pocketing, blending…just _everything_. It was no secret to the rest of us that she would be our biggest competition for every challenge; especially after she picked her first lock in under thirty seconds. Jeffery Williams, the big brute that he was, had it out for her. He wanted to have her eliminated by Phase One, but that didn't happen. He couldn't find a way to sabotage her skills because I was there to stop him. I was going to protect the petite rank one to the best of my abilities, until either she or I were knocked from the Phase training.

Slowly, Dakota started trusting me. She would talk to me before and after our training, and any time we were presented a chance, we worked together. We ate our lunch in each other's company in the library on the days of our training, since we had to be completely separated from the other students at the base during the day. A friendship kindled between the two of us, but I was losing my heart to the girl. Dakota had a smile that melted me into a puddle, framed by glossy black hair and beautiful brown eyes that lit up when she laughed. The first thing I noticed about her was the sadness in her eyes and how badly she faked smiles, and all I wanted was to be her cure. She was in every way perfect; the only thing missing was her pair of angel wings. When I couldn't stop thinking about her, I knew I was a goner. Dakota had me wrapped around her finger and could break me like glass if she wanted. I caught myself thinking about her all the time with some goofy smile on my face. It was so hard to keep my eyes off of her; especially on the days the Phase One students could use the weight room and utilize "skill workshops" with the mentors. Dakota would normally start out in the weight room after warming up wearing black shorts and a pink sports bra. I found it very hard not to watch her do pull-ups; I'd look over the script tattoo on her left rib cage and the large Dream Catcher on her back underneath her right shoulder blade. I'm not sure if she ever caught on to me checking her out, but I did it more frequently than I cared to admit.

Our causal lunches launched into hanging out during the little free time we had to spend. We'd play video games in the student lounge until we had enough of the crowd gathering to watch us. Once we escaped the lounge, Dakota and I would sneak down to the cafeteria and get ice cream and other sweets to take back to my bedroom to continue our evening of being complete nerds. I made sacrifices for her, like giving up the remote control to the TV and letting her stream whatever movies she wanted. One particular evening Dakota played the movie and musical _Sweeney Todd_ and sang every single song.

I took her out to a belated dinner for her twentieth birthday. We even spent the holidays together; since it was her first holiday season without her mother, I saw fit to keep the girl busy. For New Year's Eve, I had splurged on a bottle of expensive champagne to pop at midnight. Needless to say, the champagne was gone before the New Year, and we were passed out on her bed.

I was losing my heart to her, falling deeper under her spell.


	13. Twelve- Dakota

_Twelve- Dakota_

Adrian Aleit and McKenzie Franklin were the first two students dropped from returning for Phase Two trainings. McKenzie's failure did not surprise me. She was easily detected in a crowd, could not pick a lock to save her life, and was unable to relay eavesdropped conversations during practice. Adrian's course failure shocked me. He seemed to be good at everything he did in practice, but somewhere the mentor's found him to fall short.

We entered into Phase Two; the overview of the class was fighting with weapons and defending ourselves with nothing but our own hands. We would also work on things like climbing and jumping- something called the Leap of Faith. The first week was strictly shooting firearms. I tried to stall using guns as much as possible, but I couldn't completely avoid them. I discovered that Roger was the best sharpshooter in the class with every gun we had in the arsenal. He gave me little tips here and there when the others weren't around.

The trainings were going smoothly until the day we were to participate in the dreaded Leap of Faith. We were all situated on the highest platform in the gymnasium, high enough that the taller of the competitors had to duck around the support beams. Mentor De and Mentor Erik were leading the pack towards the edge, taking turns on explaining how to execute a perfect swan dive. I looked over the railing to our landing target, a large white air cushion, and started to feel a sickening vertigo.

"Don't look down," Roger whispered from behind, "it only makes it worse."

"You've done this before?" I asked.

He shrugged, "out of necessity."

"Now," Beamed Mentor De, "Mentor Erik will demonstrate the Leap of Faith."

I watched, clutching my arms to myself as I watched Mentor Erik prepare himself for his jump. He wore no safety harness or cables, just traditional Master Assassin robes. He spread his arms out from his sides, palms facing forward. With an incredible amount of grace, he bent at the knees and leapt from the edge. On his descent, he flipped his body over about halfway through the fall and stayed in the position until he hit the air cushion. He made it look so easy. I wasn't one to willingly jump to my death.

In line for the Leap were Ekundayo, Jeffery, me, and lastly Roger. Mentor De stood at the edge, giving Ekundayo a few calming words before he readied himself for his fall. I watched him reach his arms out and leapt just like his mentor before him. It was a graceful, controlled fall that landed him square in the center of the air cushion. Watching the two men calmed my nerves; if they could do it, so could I. I just needed to get over the thought of it all and do it.

Jeffery moved the edge of the platform. Mentor De started to give him words of advice, but Jeffery kept looking over his shoulder at me. I glanced over the edge again, just to examine where Mentor Erik and Ekundayo went too.

I felt a grasp on my wrist, and I snapped my glance up to see it was Jeffery. Before I could remove my wrist, or grab a barring of what was happening, Jeffery pulled me forward, flinging me over the edge. I had no time to scream or even consider anything else besides the fact that I was falling towards the ground face first. I came to my senses, and flipped over to land on my back. It wasn't the greatest of landings; I hit the air cushion's corner, breaking the gist of my fall, but causing me to bounce off and slam into the ground with my arm underneath of me which made an ugly popping noise. I rolled onto my back, clutching my wrist, and watched as Mentor Erik and Ekundayo rushed over to me.

I could hear raised voices from above, but I couldn't tell from who or what they were saying. Mentor Erik helped me to my feet, asking me repeatedly if I was okay. He escorted me to the health wing to have my wrist examined with an unnecessary amount of urgency. Once I was situated in the student clinic, Mentor Erik left to deal with the aftermath of Jeffery throwing me off the platform. I would have to wait until after my examination to hear how the Mentor's dealt with the situation.

Not long after Mentor Erik left, a nurse called me to go back to room. She took my vitals and put in an order for a wrist X-ray. After waiting another ten minutes,the nurse took me back to have my wrist X-rayed and then once again took me back to my room where I was to wait for another twenty minutes. I had given up on the entire day, even lying back on the exam table to take a nap. At long last there was a knock on the door, and I sat up. A tall man in a white doctor's coat opened the door, green eyes bright as his smile. It was none other than Doctor Means.

"Good afternoon, Dakota."

"Hello, Doctor," I smiled.

"I heard what happened in training today. Jeffery has been eliminated, by my own order. We cannot have someone so willingly intent on injuring one of our own in this competition."

I nodded, "Do you know why he threw me over? I haven't done anything wrong to him."

Doctor Means smiled slightly, "No, he did not have a very good excuse. Your friend Roger was there to defend you, of course. Perhaps the competition got the best of him."

"Perhaps," I sighed, looking down at the swelling of my wrist.

"Now, let's take care of that wrist, shall we?"

Later that evening, as I was watching the sunset through the lone window of my room and listening to Shinedown playing on my iPod, there was a knock at my door. It was none other than Roger, just checking to make sure I was okay. I invited him in, which he obliged. I showed him my new wrist brace, a black ugly thing that marked my injury. He frowned at it.

"Did you hear everything that happened?" Roger asked.

"I heard Jeffery was eliminated," I shrugged.

"He wasn't just eliminated," Roger growled, "that bastard was a traitor. I always had my suspicions."

I raised an eyebrow, but did not comment.

"Jeffery was a Templar, Dakota. He was given special orders to eliminate you when it was reported back that you made it into these Phase Trainings. His attempt was weak, but it could have done a lot more damage than spraining your wrist."

"Why was he after _me_? I'm not anything important to the Assassin's."

Roger stared at me like I was stupid, "You're the daughter of Antonio Verdi, Master Assassin. You're bloodline is so _thick_ in Assassin linage that makes you a _natural_ Assassin."

"I seriously doubt that's why-"

"-No, Dakota. That's exactly why. You're an asset to the Brotherhood and you have _no idea_."

I rolled my eyes, dismissing the idea. "At least Jeffery's gone."

"Thank God for that," Roger sighed.

"So…what will they do with him since they know he's a Templar?"

Roger shifted, uncomfortable, "traitors don't get a second chance."

"They killed him?" I looked over to Roger in a state of disbelief.

He swallowed, keeping his gaze to the sunset. "Assassins make the best Templars."


	14. Thirteen- Dakota

_Thirteen- Dakota_

Three of us were left. Ekundayo, Roger, and myself. The trainings were passing faster than I had expected. We were learning so much in a small amount of time, and it seemed that the best Assassin's kept getting eliminated. The Mentor's were keeping such close tally of our actions that one little mistake could dock enough points to take someone out of the running for good. After I was able to remove my brace, the trainings began once again. Doctor Means wanted it to be that way since my injury was not my fault, but someone else's actions.

The three of us kept in close standing until the very last week. We were expected to combine everything we have learned through the two phases of training to pass a rigorous test. The Mentor's turned one of the gymnasiums into an interchangeable course for each of us to run through. We were to use all of our trained abilities to locate and eliminate our targets. Our time of course completion was to be clocked from the moment we step into the gym to the moment we escape from assassinating our target. The IT students built functioning and life-like robots to work as by standing innocents and our targets. They were equipped with sensors to detect our heat signatures and would cause a different color of flashing light to indicate its worry level.

The Mentor's sized us for traditional robes, dressing us up in costume for the event. On the day of the test, the three of us were to wear our white robes with black boots, and were expected to wear the hoods for the entirety of our course. Before starting the event, we were allowed to pick our own weaponry. I chose a silver set of Sai blades, throwing knives, a few spare daggers, and hidden blades to strap onto my arms. Roger chose his pistols, a single hidden blade, and some throwing stars. Ekundayo only chose a sword and two hidden blades.

Roger was selected to run through his course first. I sat in the observatory room above the gymnasium with Ekundayo. From here, we could watch Roger run his course when he was unobstructed by obstacles. For each of us, the course and objective would be changed when we were pulled from the room, making it fair. Roger's course had locked doors and chests he needed to open. I figured his mission was to find incriminating evidence that would lead him to his target. Each chest Roger opened, he would have a piece of paper to read, giving him what seemed like his next set of instructions.

Ekundayo and I never spoke much during these trainings, since we never seemed to have a reason for conversation. Though, locked together in a room observing our peer, we started to make comments about Roger's course. It seemed puzzle like, as if the entire course was set up to be a maze. Talking helped me calm my nerves; it slowed the shaking in my hands and kept me from pacing like a caged animal. As we studied Roger's tactics, I could sense Ekundayo was glancing in my direction.

"How is your wrist?" He asked.

"Oh, it's better. Thank you for asking," I smiled.

"Good. Because you're going on to the third phase, and you're going to need your strength."

I eyed him, "Unless Roger utterly fails in the next few minutes, I doubt I'll be going on."

"No. I know you are going on."

"What makes you think that?" I questioned smoothly.

"I do not _think_. I _know_."

"Well…thank you, Ekundayo."

He smiled and nodded.

Roger finished his course, using his assassination move on his target and escaping the area. A few moments passed before the door opened. Mentor Erik popped his head inside with a smile.

"Dakota, you're next."

I looked back to Ekundayo who merely nodded.

Mentor Erik led me through the hallways and stairwells that lead back to the gymnasium. He was talking cheerfully to me, expressing how well all three of us were doing, and how excited he was to see my own performance. We stood on outside of the double gym doors, waiting for a signal that my course was complete and ready for my entry.

"Now, your objective is to assassinate with as much stealth and speed as possible." The double doors clicked as it was being unlocked, "Good luck, Dakota! I know you'll do great."

I was about to ask if I had a name or description of my target, but the doors were already swinging open. I took a quick glance around before stepping inside, mindful that my time began as soon as I walked through the doors. The platforms were at different heights until they reached up into the rafters. Just about the entire center was open with robots moving about. Only the perimeter held shadows and any hope for stealth. I stepped casually towards the climbing rock wall and began my ascent to the rafters. I needed a higher visual. Once at the top of the climbing wall, I realized that the only way to get to the first platform was to back eject. I hated back ejecting; it took a lot of coordination and self-trust to push off the wall, turn around in mid-jump, and grasp onto a ledge you hope is where you calculated it to be. I knew stalling to reconsider was not the answer; my time was already ticking away.

I took a deep breath, a quick look over my shoulder, and back ejected from the wall. I grasped onto the ledge of the platform and pulled myself up. _Keep climbing, just keep climbing_. Once I was in the metal rafters of the ceiling, I looked around the eerily life-like robots walking about on the floor two stories below. Now how was I supposed to tell which one was my target? I had no description, not a single hint to which one of these robots I was to take out. They all looked alike. Each one looked like metal humanoids walking about without a flicker of detection from someone staring from above.

Then, it suddenly donned on me. I rolled my eyes, knowing _exactly_ what ability the Mentor's were testing. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, trying to find my center of concentration to activate Eagle Vision. Opening my eyes, my vision had changed over to what always reminded me of a negative film strip. I looked over the wondering robots again, finding that many of them had a certain color aura about them. The innocent bystanders had a look of a blue light about them. The enemy robots were lined with a bright red that radiated much more than the blue auras of the innocents. I continued to scan over every inch of the floor, until one stood out from the rest. Completely highlighted in a golden brilliance was my target. It was standing not too far away, just a few rafters over, a safe distance away from enemy detection. I looked from my target to find my escape route- a backdoor of the gymnasium just off to the right of my target.

 _Go, go! Quickly!_ I did not hesitate to hop from rafter to rafter, bouncing with each leap to the next. The target was below me now. I made another scan of the area to ensure that the enemies were still a safe distance away. I flicked my wrist, extending out my hidden blade which locked automatically into place. I jumped, falling from the ceiling to land on the back of my target. As I used the target to break my fall, I sank the hidden blade into the neck, deep enough that would sever arteries and airways. I extracted the hidden blade from my targets neck and took off running for the backdoor of the gymnasium. Busting through the door, I was startled to find Mentor De on the other side with a smile and a handshake. My simulation was completed.

Mentor De led me back upstairs to the holding room I had spent in the company of Ekundayo. Instead, Roger was waiting, watching out the window as they switched the course for the last competitor. He turned and greeted me with a large smile and a tight hug against his muscular frame. The hug hurt a little as he squeezed me against him, making me squeak.

"Dakota, that was amazing. What you did in there? Mind blowing. I've never seen that side of you before."

I raised an eyebrow and smirked, "I mean that jump _was_ pretty ballsy."

"Not just the _jump_! You leaping across those beams and dancing across them like…like a fearless cat! _Dakota_ , you have no idea. And that form of your assassination jump? _Perfection_ \- something straight from the Altair days."

"Roger," I laughed, "calm down. I just did what I had too."

He shook his head with a smile, set into a state of disbelief.

Roger and I stood at the window to watch for Ekundayo to start his course. I was still confused by his insisting my success in going on to Phase Three. It worried me, as well. Was Ekundayo telling me that _he_ would be leaving after this round? Maybe something he watched Roger do during his run screamed elimination. Or was he simply calming my nerves? He was incredibly self assured when he spoke of my future success.

As Ekundayo entered the gymnasium, he stopped and looked at his challenge. There was a kit on a small table in front of him. On the other side of the gym looked to be a room with a looked door. Ekundayo picked up the provided kit and walked to the door. Suddenly, as if he had stumbled over something unseen, red lights began to flash around the gym. Above the closed door to the room, a digital clock began to count down from a minute. Ekundayo had set off an alarm, and he rushed frantically to the door. He unraveled the kit and started to use the tools it provided to pick the door lock.

I gasped, figuring out Ekundayo's objective, "it's a rescue mission."

Roger met my eyes and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"He has to rescue the person behind that door. When the clock ticks down to zero, his target will die- he'll fail the mission!"

"How do you know that?" Roger narrowed his eyes at me.

"Look how frustrated he is, how fast he's trying to move."

Roger looked out, noticing what I had observed.

The clock was ticking down to the last fifteen seconds. Ekundayo had officially given up on picking the door's lock. He began to throw his entire body into the door, trying desperately to break it down to rescue his target. When the clock struck zero, the red lights stopped flashing, and Ekundayo stopped trying. Mentor Erik walked over to the heaving Ekundayo. The mentor gently placed his hand on the man's back, telling him something. Ekundayo rose to his feet, and left the gymnasium.

Moments later, Mentor Erik and Mentor De knocked on the door. Roger and I turned to face the two men. Their faces were somber as they looked over the two of us. They explained Ekundayo had failed his mission, and therefore automatically disqualified from the competition. Roger and I had successfully passed Phase Two, and would progress into Phase Three. We thanked our mentors, shaking their hands and accepting their congratulations.  
Mentor De smiled, "Phase Three will begin next Monday. However, we please ask that the two of you find time this Friday to be consulted by Doctor Means together."


	15. Fourteen- Dakota

_Fourteen- Dakota_

Roger and I walked away from the gymnasium that night both humorless in our own ways, and for our own reasons. Roger's entire persona changed since the announcement of our passing Phase Two. He seemed to be taking a more serious tone to his advancement; I worried he would begin to target me now that we were the final two competitors. I had taken to a dour mood the moment I watched Ekundayo fail his mission, forcing my advancement. When these Phase Trainings began a few months ago, we were told of a review period. What happened to that review for Ekundayo? He was dismissed immediately, and I had a strong feeling he _knew_ he was the next to be released. But, out of the other competitors we've faced, why Roger and myself? What caused the Mentor's to pick over the more deserving, highly trained Assassin's against a rank three and a rank one initiate?

I would have some of my questions answered that following Friday. Roger and I met to have dinner before seeing Doctor Means for our consultation. At least Roger was in a better mood, he seemed to be back to the goofball he normally was, while I was putting my reservations behind a mask. I kept my conspiracies to myself. After all, it was not the job of a rank one to ask too many questions when they're following orders. No one needed to know my inner treasons and accusations. While we ate, I happened to spot the group of people I started to call friends. They stopped talking to me after I was announced into the Phase Trainings. The group did a good job at ignoring my presence in the cafeteria, and at this point, I was glad. The last thing I needed was jealousy and question from people who weren't on the inside of this process.

Doctor Means had a lush office deep within the health wing closer to the long-term care center. Roger and I sat opposite of the handsome doctor. He started with small talk that led into congratulations. He was working his way into the topic of the Phase Three trainings so obviously that it made me anxious. It felt like the doctor was trying to build unneeded suspense to the very moment he started his consolation.

"So, let's talk about what's coming up for you two," the doctor smiled. He pulled out two folders from a drawer in his desk and flipped them open. "I'm sure you have many questions."

The corners of my mouth twitched, betraying my calculated stone expression.

"Now," Doctor Means said, folding his hands on the table, "The two of you have made it this far because, individually, the two of you have shown the most improvement. These Phase Trainings were never to _pick_ the best Assassin out of six. These Trainings were to _find_ the most versatile out of the group. I was looking for someone who can learn fast and overcome obstacles just to improve, not to impress, all while teaching vital skills that an Assassin needs to achieve.

"The mission that lies ahead of the two of you will not be easy. I need someone that is dependable and smart. The winner is granted the use of my invention; you'll be thrown into a new world of experiences that no one else can come across. I want this to possibly be the new way to train gifted Assassin's. Sink or swim," he smiled.

I raised an eyebrow, "I'm sorry. You're losing me here. Is your invention some sort of simulator?" The doctor's smile grew into something wicked, "It is not a simulator. It is something much more advanced than reality simulation. My invention will grant the winner of this competition a chance to explore the past. I have invented a machine that can take you back ages, where you are thrown into the situations and must learn how to survive."

"Like a time machine?" Roger asked.

"That's exactly what it is," the doctor nodded.

"So, you're telling me that you can send us back in time?" I asked skeptically.

"Yes," nodded Doctor Means in all seriousness. "The Templar's have their Animus, but now we have the ability to visit history for ourselves, not through genetic memories. The panel of Mentor's will select a time period they see most fit for you as individuals. If you win this last Phase, you will be sent to that time period for further training."

"What will we be learning in Phase Three, doctor?" Roger asked.

"You will be refining your skills in this phase. This is the time to ask questions, to condition your bodies and minds. But at the same time, the mentor's and I will be keeping very close tabs on your abilities. We will match the abilities between the two of you, and whoever is the best for the mission will be granted the chance to experience the future of Assassin training."

"How does this time machine work?" I asked, trying to keep the acid from bubbling over. I was not taking light to the situation.

"I discovered a way to move atoms from an individual or object and transfer them to the past. With this discovery, I have also worked a way to both send someone back in time, and bring them back to the present day."

"And you've used this machine yourself?"  
"Of course," The doctor smiled. "However else could I sit here and tell you it works?"

 _Neck to neck_ , I thought as I threw my knives at the target. _Neck to fucking neck, neither of us can beat the other._ Phase Three Trainings have officially gotten on my very last nerve. Roger and I have competed for speed, strength, accuracy, precision, and everything an Assassin should know. We would end up tying each other's scores in the end. I was faster, but he was stronger. I was better with knives, but he was better with guns. I was faster fighter, but he was a stronger defender. The Mentor's decided to allow us private training sessions once again in hopes that one would unlock a new way to beat the other. It didn't work, considering during my last practice I kicked Colt in the nuts for telling me to drop out if the competition was too hard for me. Nothing Roger and I could do was good enough to outweigh the other, and it was slowly tearing the friendship we had apart. We've been back and forth for weeks now, and all I wanted to do was use my finely tuned aim to connect a blade to someone's head. It didn't help that Roger and I were both given our destinations depending on who passed the Phase Three Trainings. Roger was selected to travel to Victorian Era England, while I was chosen to go to Renaissance Italy, both to understudy with the Assassin Mentor's of the time.

Our Mentor's found that they were at an impasse, and called an urgent meeting to discuss the situation. Doctor Means decided that we would undergo full health evaluations- everything to eye tests to cardiovascular stress tests. I had already done my testing early this morning, leaving me time to work out in the gym all afternoon. Roger was currently going through with his physical, which with his physique would hold no issues for him to pass with flying colors. _This is pathetic,_ I thought, throwing another knife, _of course Roger will win with a physical._ The revealing of results was tomorrow, and preparation for the winner's time-traveling-voyage would begin.

I heard the gymnasium doors open and close; I knew it was Roger by the sound of his walk. He approached me slowly, until I was out of knives left to be thrown. I thought he was going attempt small talk, like old friends that haven't spoken in a few years, but he said nothing. I looked over my shoulder at him; he stood with arms at his side and a distant look in his eyes. Since the start of Phase Three, Roger's goofball personality slipped away into a bleak seriousness. I turned back to observe my targets.

"Dakota…I uh…I know this wasn't a fair way to end the phases."

"I'm not entitled to anything, Roger."

"If it means anything, I think you should have won this. You uh…you've done some really amazing stuff during the trainings."

I turned to leave, throwing on my hoodie to cover my sports bra, "yeah. Have fun in Victorian Era England, Roger."

I stayed shut in my room that evening. There was nothing I wanted more than disconnection from the world. It was moments like this that I've felt the unresolved grievances from my mother's passing- loneliness and pent up survivors guilt. Since I started my stay here at the Base, only one person kept my mind content, and it was the same person who I did not want to think about right now. Roger had helped me through a rough time, and I knew I needed to redirect my frustrations away from him. It was the Mentor's who decided to cheat us from a fair race. They found an easy way out of picking between the two of us for their prized mission.

Rolling myself off my bed and into a pair of beat up moccasins, I zipped up my hoodie and made way to make amends. The walk to Roger's room included a trip down two floors in the elevator and down a long hallway that gave off a scent that one would just _know_ guys inhabited. I walked until I found the door marked 23, and knocked. There was only a slight pause before the door opened.

"Uh...hi, Dakota," Roger said with wide eyes.

"Hey, um…got a second to talk?"

"Yeah, of course! Come in," he stepped aside and allowed me to enter.

I sat down on the edge of his bed, looking around the room awkwardly until Roger sat beside me. "So…I wanted to apologize for how much of bitch I've been lately."

"No, Dakota, you don't have to apologize. I know you've pretty much gotten screwed over from this."

"Yeah, but I didn't need to be harsh towards you- it isn't your fault."

"Well…apology accepted. If it means anything, I think you should have won these trainings."

I smiled, "thanks, but I know you're going to do great."

"You know, we still don't have the results yet. You never know who won," he smirked.

"Don't tell me you tried to fail the physical," I eyed him suspiciously.

"No…I didn't try, but still, you never know."

"I guess we'll find out in the morning," I sighed.

For another hour, I stayed just to talk to Roger. He walked me to my room where we wished each other a goodnight. I entertained the thought of inviting him in for the night, but dismissed it. There was no need for rockier roads in our already strange friendship. I didn't want another Logan in my life. The night would end at the doorway, and the morning would start at breakfast before reporting to Doctor Means' office.


	16. Fifteen- Dakota

_Fifteen- Dakota_

Doctor Means shifted through our folders, putting papers in order from our physicals the day prior. I gripped Roger's hand, awaiting the results that would send one of us on our mission, and the other back to classes. The doctor folded his hands and chuckled to himself as he looked over our folders.

"What I find so amazing, is how the two of you scored equal scores at the end of your physicals. There was only one test that the two of you differed on."

"Which was?" Roger prompted.

"On the eye exam, one scored higher than the other. Dakota, you have 20/20 vision," my heart caught in my chest, "but Roger has 20/15 vision. So congratulations, Roger, you are our winner."

My heart dropped; Roger was squeezing my hand so tight I started to lose feeling.

"Thank you doctor," Roger said breathlessly.

Talk started about the next few steps before Roger was ready for his mission to Victorian Era England. The doctor wanted to do some blood work and additional testing before putting Roger into the machine. Roger would be suited with traditional Assassin robes, and granted use of any weapon he so wanted as long as it had acceptable use in Victorian England. I sat in my chair, watching the two discuss the mission in detail, making me realize how badly I actually wanted to win. It would be back to normal classes now, back to where I should have been in the first place.

"Doctor," Roger said before the conclusion of the meeting, "I want Dakota to help me through my mission. I want her to be there every step of the way."

The doctor nodded, "as you wish."

I looked up to Roger, and he smiled back.

Roger was dressed in his new robes; they were black with gold accents. He looked quite handsome in them, giving him an added nostalgia of an Assassin. Roger was admiring himself in the mirror in his bedroom while I sat back on his bed. Tomorrow morning, he was going to be placed into a machine that would do its magic of "sending" him through time. The doctor explained the process to us before, it was a complex system that sent half of one's atoms through to another time, where they would pick up free floating atoms. So, in a sense, Roger would both be here and there, although somewhat transparent in the present day. The entire system was confusing and made me uncomfortable to think about it.

"Looking good, Roger," I smiled.

He smirked, turning to face me, "thanks."

"Are you nervous?"

"Absolutely," he sat down on the bed, "I can tell you are, and you're not even being sent back."

I shrugged, "I just want everything to go off without a hitch."

"I'm sure it will. But…Dakota…even if I'm sent back fine, I can still die during my missions."

"Don't say that," I whispered.

Roger reached up and stroked my cheek. "I'm going to miss you when I'm gone."

"I'll miss you too."

Roger positioned himself to be next to me, taking the hand he was using to stroke my cheek and cupped it. He brought his lips to mine with a soft but nervous ease. There was no lingering, just a simple kiss.

"I just wanted to do that before I left," he sighed.

Nine o'clock the following morning, I watched as Roger sat on the metal table of the machine, being poked with IV needles and stuck with electrodes. He would look up to me and smile, which I would return with as much confidence as possible. Watching the entire process was making me nervous, but I needed to keep calm. Doctor Means instructed Roger to lay down when he was ready, and to grip his backpack as tight to his body as possible. A glass cover started to lower over Roger, concealing him what seemed to be a glass coffin. I gripped my arms closer to my body as the doctor started the countdown from twenty.

I watched the machine gear up, screens flashing with information I had no inkling of what anything meant. The count was nearing towards the last ten seconds, and a bright light started to appear above the glass container. The doctor ended his count at zero, and there was a bright flash. It was followed by a horrible screeching noise coming from Roger; he was shrieking in pain as the machine hummed.

"Emergency shut down!" Shouted the doctor to his nursing staff, "Get him out of there, STAT!"

The team sprung into action, shutting down all systems and rushing to Roger's aid. All I could do was stare in disbelief and listen to the constant, painful screams Roger was producing. He looked like he was having a seizure as he thrashed about on the lab table. The nurses got a stretcher and pulled him on to it; they rushed him to the medical wing. I followed behind, but was denied entry into his hospital room until he was stable.

Stability was only granted through sedation, and even then, Roger was still shaking. The doctor explained to me after Roger's convulsing ceased that something went horribly wrong in the calculations to send Roger to Victorian England.

"I believe Roger has encountered a monocular malfunction; he may always shake like this," the doctor explained. "It might be as if he has Parkinson's disease, but it is too early to tell."

I stayed with Roger that night in a reclining chair facing his bed. I pulled a hospital blanket from the room's storage closet and made myself as comfortable as possible. I drifted off to a dreamless state for only a few hours before the sounds of frequent beeping caused me to awake up. Fogged from sleep, I couldn't figure out what the beeping was from at first. I looked up to Roger's heart monitor to realize it was the source of the beeps.

I jumped up and yelled out his doorway, "Heart rate in the two-hundred-and-fifties! He's going into A-Fib!"

Nurses rushed in, followed quickly by the doctor. They started to push IV medications, but Roger's heart rate still stayed in the two-fifties. Doctor Means made the ultimate decision to perform an emergency cardioversion, and the nurses made quick to pace the proper pads onto Roger's chest. Doctor Means stood ready at the machine, calling for an all clear away from his patient. I heard the machine whine with electricity before one big jolt, shocking Roger to the point where he jumped and moaned from the pain. His heart rate decreased to the low two-hundreds. The doctor made ready for another shock, calling another all clear before jolting Roger once again. His heart rate dropped within the next few minutes.

I found my hands and knees shaking from watching the occurrence. I sat in my chair and watched as the medical staff filed out of the room. Roger had fallen back into the fog of heavy sedation not long after his cardioversion ended. I knew he wouldn't remember what happened or how much pain he went through tonight, and it would be for the best.

The following afternoon I found my way back to Doctor Means' office. I knocked on his door and waited for a reply, which came graveled and distant. I opened the door to find the doctor shuffling through papers on his desk- that man was always going through his paperwork. He looked up to see who was entering, and closed a folder in front of him.

"Hello, Dakota," he smiled, though he looked worn.

"Hello, Doctor. I…uh…need to speak with you," I closed the door behind me.

"Yes, of course, have a seat."

I sat down and clear my throat, "I know how much time and money that you and the Assassin's have put into this machine. And you said that you've tried it yourself; that the machine works. I was wondering…what may have gone wrong?"

The doctor's eyes shifted from me to the wall behind me, "he resisted the send back."

"Resisted?"

"Yes, I believe that was my fault. I did not warn him about the pain that being sent back can inflict. I thought…maybe if he didn't know, that he would not brace for what was to come."

"So by fighting the process, it caused him to have a seizure?"

"I wouldn't classify it as a seizure, actually. It looked like one, undoubtedly. But…it was actually his atoms fighting against one another to restore homeostasis."

I sighed, thinking hard about what I was going to say, and how much confidence I needed to say it. I straightened myself and looked directly at the doctor, "Send me."

He looked at me, blinking a few times, "What?"

"Send me to Renaissance Italy."

"No, Dakota, I can't authorize it. It's too costly."

"I know the risks. I've watched it happen. I know there are risks with the Templar's Animus, too. Send me."

"You know the risks and watched them unfold in front of you. Your friend is in critical condition. And you still want to take the chance for almost certain death?"

"If you can do it, so can I."

"Roger couldn't handle it-"

"-Roger wasn't expecting it," I raised my voice over the doctor's, which silenced him. He watched me with a curious intent, " _I_ expect it. I can handle it. Send me."

The doctor dropped his head and let out a heavy sigh. I thought he was just going to ignore it and dismiss me. He lifted a finger from his desk, "give it a week. I'll give you a list of everything you need to pack. We'll have you fitted for proper robes tomorrow. I'll have Colt give you the required history lesson before your departure, and you are to condition yourself in workout sessions."

"Thank you, doctor," I said before standing to leave.

"Oh, and by the way Dakota," I stopped and turned to the doctor, who was looking at me with a smirk, "Nice work detecting Roger's Atrial fibrillation last night."

I smiled, "thank you, doctor."

And so, with Colt back as my coach, the quite gymnasium once again blared with music ranging from pop to rock. But this time, I was better. Anything Colt could throw at me, I was able to deflect and counter. He could no longer match my pace- I struck like lightening, fast and unforgiving. I was no longer the one with the bloody knuckles, begging for tolerance between dry heaves for oxygen. _I_ finally _felt_ like an Assassin. I would practice in my robes given to me for my Phase Trainings, hood and full weapons donned, adding to the nostalgia of it all. I would ultimately improve with time.

Colt was also in charge of giving me my history lessons, teaching me about the low down about the Italian Renaissance and the Assassin's. I was to at first seek out an Assassin named Paola, who would be expecting my arrival. To find her, I would have to find her workers- courtesans in the streets, to take me to her. From there, the rest of the Assassin's would take me in when or if they saw fit.

My new robes were ready on Saturday. I studied myself in them with the weapons I had picked as my own. I chose silver bladed Sai blades as my primary weapon, a hidden blade strapped to my left arm, and several throwing knives. After my first mission was completed, my Mentor's would decide if I should be allotted more weaponry. The robes were white with red accents, crafted to look like Renaissance fashion but yet practical enough for maneuvering with unrestricted ease. The robes were paired with black leggings and leather boots. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, placed my mother's rosary on my neck, and donned the hood. I took a long hard look at myself, inspecting every piece. In the same moment, I took a deep breath, _Dad…please watch over me._

Sunday evening, I made my routine trip to visit the comatose Roger in the hospital. His condition was making little to no improvement throughout the week, even with his sedation medications being slowly lifted. Walking past the nurse's station, I waved when they looked up to their visitor. The charge nurse stood up with a smile and met me at before I neared Roger's room.

"I have good news," the nurse smiled, "he's wake."

My smiled widened, "seriously? He's finally wake?"

"He's still shaking, though. But he's stable enough to stay awake. We do have him hooked up to a Patient-Controlled Analgesia just in case he experiences any sudden pain like he had before we sedated him."

"Is it okay to visit him?" I asked, bouncing in place.

The nurse smiled, "of course! He's been asking about you."

I entered the hospital room to find it dimmed, and the mounted TV turned on with the volume set low. I looked around the curtains edge to find an awake but shaking Roger. He seemed not to have a trace of pain showing in his expression, which I was relieved to see. His eyes met my shadowy silhouette peering around the corner of the curtain and instantly brightened.

"Dakota," he said, voice rough but excited.

I sat next to him on his bed, "hey, how are you feeling?"

He grunted, "Like I've been quartered by horses."

"I'm sorry," I frowned, "I hope it goes away soon."

"So do I," his smile turning to flirtatious, "What's been going on with _you_ since I've been asleep?"

"I've been doing some training," I tried to shrug nonchalantly.

"Have they started you back to classes yet?"

I shook my head, "Nope, not yet. Guess I get a little bit of a break."

Roger eyed me with suspicion, "Is there…something you're not telling me?"

"Uhh…"

"Dakota, seriously, tell me. I'd rather know now then find out later."

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out before replying. "They're sending me to Renaissance Italy."

His eyes widened, and the beeping of his heart monitor started to increase in accordance to his heart rate. "No. No, Dakota. Don't let them send you. You have no idea the pain you're going to face being sent back. Please, Dakota. Please don't go."

"Roger. I volunteered for this."

" _Dakota_! _How_ could you be so _stupid_? Look what happened to me! I don't want it to happen to _you_ , too."

"I know what I'm doing-"

"- _No_ , you don't!"

I closed my eyes and dismissed the encounter, not giving Roger a reply.

"When are you leaving?" Roger whispered pleadingly.

"Tomorrow morning."

" _Dakota-_ "

I shifted myself to face him fully, "Roger. I'm not allowing the Assassin's to give up this chance to get ahead of the Templar's. I know what I'm up against with the machine. I've seen it; I'm not _that_ blind. I know that you're worried, and you have every _damn_ right to be. But right now, I'm doing what feels right- what feels right for _me_."

Roger slowly fell into submission, resting against his pillow with every word. He was falling back into sedation with the predetermined medication streaming through his veins. At least he didn't see me pressing the PCA button on his IV pump.


	17. Sixteen- Dakota

_Sixteen- Dakota_

I was lying on the metal lab table, clutching my backpack to my core as I stared up at the glass lid that was soon to encase me, keeping the thoughts of chickening out far away. Nothing could prepare a person for the feeling of being ripped apart besides the knowledge that you were going to experience that very phenomenon in about thirty seconds. The nurses were placing electrodes to my chest and IV needles into my veins; the countdown was beginning. The medical staff stepped away and towards their respective positions.

I watched as the glass lid started to come down around me, making a vacuum seal as it clicked into place. I could barely hear the muffled sounds of the doctor's countdown starting at twenty. My heart was pounding; I gripped as tightly as I could to my backpack and closed my eyes. _Don't resist it. Don't resist it. Don't resist it._

Ten seconds left.

I could hear the machines hum, and the doctor's count was becoming too faint to hear. I started to count for myself, but found it was nearly impossible with the rushing thoughts of what was to come screaming in my head. The human sensation of imamate danger was trying to send adrenaline through my veins.

Five seconds left.

A light from above was growing brighter, forcing me to clench my eyes shut tighter. Any second now. Any…second…now… There was a loud _click!_

Pure agony shot through my body a second afterwards. I felt every cell of skin rip from my being, every muscle pull in different directions. I felt like all of my bones were broken at once. My lungs were not getting the oxygen they needed for my ribs were concaved into them. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't figure out how to open my mouth and produce the sound. There was a sickeningly weightlessness to the sensation, which I fully believed was my atoms being sent through time.

In the next moment, I was standing. But I was too weak to stand. I was falling forward, completely unbalanced and too limp to stop myself from slamming off the floor. I laid there, unable to move. I could not hear, see, smell, or barely think a line of coherent thoughts before a fog took over. Was this purgatory? Was I trapped between the modern day and the past, forever to lay here senseless until death? My heart was pounding inside my chest- that was the only thing I was certain. I could feel blood pumping through my veins, beating against numb extremities. Pinpricks, much like the sensation brought on after warming frozen fingers, started in waves within every inch of me.

Slowly, I started to become aware that I was breathing cold air, sending a numb shiver through my body. There was a faint smell…of river water and fish. I felt dampness of the stones underneath of me. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the mutterings of incoherent language in swirls of conversations. I tried to blink the black blindness from my eyes as pops of colors started to form behind my eyelids.

When I regained my vision, I noticed it was dusk. I was also laying face down in a dark, back alleyway near the waterway running through the city. Sitting myself up, I felt nauseated as the world spun around me. The vertigo started to slow after several agonizing minutes. I took a few moments to observe my surroundings once again, taking in the area. Getting myself slowly to my feet, I grabbed my backpack from the ground and slung one strap over my shoulder. I reached up to my neck and made sure my mother's rosary made the trip intact. As I advanced another dizzying disorientation made the world spin and my stomach unsettled. A few deep breaths followed by a few more steps until the world finally stilled around me.

 _Who was I supposed to meet again?_

I looked out at the nightlife wondering about under dim candle light. There were groups of people; guards armed with swords, different classes so obvious by dress, and a group of courtesans awaiting business partners.

 _Them. I need them._

I pulled my hood over my eyes and advanced from the alleyway to the group of gussied up courtesans. In my head, I repeated to myself over and over again the correct translation before opening my mouth. One of the girls noticed me and whispered to another girl close to her.

"Looking a bit lost," she said, causing a slight hesitation as I needed to translate in my mind.

"I am looking for someone in particular. Perhaps you can help me?"

The two girls looked at each other before responding, "Are you the one looking for Paola?"

I sighed with relief, "Yes, that's me."

"Follow me," said the girl, leading the way.

I followed quietly through the streets. The courtesan navigated the area with a grace filled with ease that told me she's been doing this for quite a long time. Before long, we approached a large three story stone manor decorated with red roses on the outside in window boxes and red curtains inside illuminated by candle light. There was a second story balcony overhanging the main entrance dressed with deep red drapery, where two women stood and cooed at people passing by underneath. It was undoubtedly a brothel, but I had to respect its classy appearance.

My guide looked over her shoulder, "Welcome to _La Rosa Colta_."

We entered the brothel where I was instructed to wait in the main lobby for Paola. I pushed my hood off of my head and took in my surroundings. It was a lush interior, filled with the sweet smelling incenses burning to help "relax" customers. I tried not to make eye contact with the clients already inhabiting the overstuffed sofas off to the left as they enjoyed the company of the courtesans.

Soft footfalls coming down the stairs caught my attention. I looked up to find a tall woman in a pink and red stripped dress that brushed ever so gently across the carpet. She stood proud, head held high and an all over elegance to her movements. I felt small under her gaze, even if her eyes were welcoming and concerned.

"Are you the one they sent?" She asked quietly.

"I am," I said, realizing how nervous I was.

"My name is Paola. Please, follow me," she smirked.

Moving away from the cliental, Paola lead me back to an empty sitting room. Behind the closed door, we could speak business in private. Sitting adjacent, I tried not to stare as it only increased my anxieties.

"Forgive me; your name was only spoken once before your arrival. How is it pronounced again?" Paola smiled softly.

"Dakota Verdi. I guess my first name would be… _foreign_ ," I laughed nervously.

"Indeed, along with the entire idea of your presence here," Paola nodded. "I had my skepticisms that this day would actually come. The entire idea of traveling through time is a preposterous, unthinkable attainment. Tell me, do people of your… _time_ …do this often?"

"No, ma'am, I believe I am one of the first."

"With that, I hope you understand how straight of a line you must walk."

I sighed, "Yes. I understand that one foot out of place can bring everything crashing down."

"And what a fragile time to send you too. Things in _Firenze_ are not as they appear."

"That could be said about any city, really," I shrugged.

Paola smiled, "Very true. Now, for your arrangements; I have a room ready for your stay. While you are with me, you will learn this city's streets by guarding my girls. With them, you will learn how to be seen and unseen in this time, as well as listening to rumors and reporting them back to me. It is how we know of the city's secrets."

* * *

A few weeks passed, and I was getting quite adjusted to guarding the younger groups of courtesans new to the business. It was an easy job most nights; I learned the city streets just as easy as I learned everyone's secrets. Other nights caused my shadowed presence to step forward when men harassed the ladies. I had to learn quickly how to appear threatening without turning strictly to violence- obtaining a demanding and authoritative voice with the same amount of don't-fuck-with-me body language was only part of the job. Smart men backed down easily; nothing like getting the guards called on you and totted off to the city jail to ruin their night. Stupid men would taunt back, trying to assert some sort of authority to justify their manhood status.

Tonight was one of _those_ nights. It was later in the evening, right before we were to head back to _La Rosa Colta_ , when a brute of a man who obviously had too much wine came over to our lovely group of ladies. His friends were watching their friend make a fool of himself. He started off with wit, but after being denied several times for free company, the cheerful drunk turned angry. I stepped out of my shadows before the man could turn insults to injuries and stood between him and the girls.

"How about you walk away before you say something you regret, hm?" I crossed my arms and took my normal body guard stance.

"And who might you be? The lead _puttana_?"

"Actually I'm more interested on who _you_ think you are. Leave now and this is completely forgotten."

"How about you-" The man extended his arm to grab me.

I grabbed a hold of his wrist, twisting his arm around until unhealthy pops and cracks were audible. The man yelled out, his knees buckled as he tried to twist with the arm. I kicked out the back of his knee, sending him to the floor. I grabbed the hair on his head with my free hand and brought his ear back for me to whisper in it.

"Leave. Do not come around these girls again, or by God, I will put you through agony worse than death. Do you understand?" I released his arm and pushed his head forward so he fell onto the ground.

I glanced to his friends across the way as they looked back with opened mouths and wide eyes. I crossed my arms again and glared from the shadows casted from my hood. The girls took the lead back to _La Rosa Colta_ , and I followed soon after, making sure no other advancements were made in our general direction. The girls were always appreciative of my interfering, almost looking forward to the next time to see what kind of pain I'd put the next idiot through.

I finally stirred out of bed by mid-morning. Like most of the brothel, late nights led to late starts to the day. I dressed and donned my weaponry out of habit before making my way downstairs. I approached the landing that overlooked the main lobby when desperate hushed voices started. Two women I did not know, one middle aged and one that looked to be in her teenage years, stood with Paola and her sister, Annetta, whom I had met prior. I rested my arms on the banister and watched over the ladies in the mist of their troubled conversation.

"-I was afraid of this," Paola sighed before looking to the two distressed strangers. "I shall have my girls fix a proper room for the two of you. Annetta, you _must_ find their son. Wake Dakota, we may need her help."

With this, I stepped down on the first stair hard enough for it to be obvious.

"Ah," Paola said, "there she is now. Dakota, I need you outside of the city prison as soon as possible. You must find a young man by the name of Ezio and bring him here. Understood?"

"Absolutely."

"I trust you know your way there?"

"Yes, I know the streets and the rooftops well by now."

"Good. Be quick. Do not be followed."


	18. Seventeen- Roger

_Seventeen- Roger_

I know I should have been angry. But I wasn't sure who to be angry with the most. Dakota for volunteering for slaughter in the doctor's machine, with full knowledge of what happened to me? Dakota for leaving me when I needed her most? Or the Doctor and his clinical staff for allowing her to do something so stupid after a failed attempt? I was kept in the dark of her leaving; the nurses wouldn't answer my questions. The doctor avoided any direct patient care, giving orders straight to the nurses and aids on what to do with me. It angered me that I depended on their care. They started helping me to walk again, first using a walker surrounded by caretakers since I was shaking too badly to do anything on my own. As I regained strength, some of the tremors faded, but have not left completely, and as I am to understand, never will.

I was restless at night, hardly getting to sleep without the aid of medication. The night shift nurse on staff had enough sympathy to help me into a wheelchair and take me around the facility since there were no other patients needing care. We talked a lot during our nightly strolls. One night I confessed my disapprovals on Dakota's mission. The nurse went very quiet, knowing she was not allowed to speak about it.

"Roger," she sighed, "You know I'm on the monitoring team for her."

"I know, I know. Sorry that I brought it up-"

"-I can let you in to see her."

My heart jumped, "You…you'd be risking your duties."

"Roger out of anyone, you have a right to see her. You know everything that she had to go through, and it's only right that you get to visit her."

The nurse turned down the health wing and off to where the lab securing Dakota's locked away form. She pulled out her badge and scanned the sensor on the wall. There was a quite _beep_ and the clicking of the metal door unlocking. We entered the dark lab; the only lights were from computer monitors and from the glass coffin illuminating Dakota's comatose body. From a distance, the look on her face was the only thing tranquil about the rest of her. Aside from the wires and tubes hooked to her, the fact of seeing the outlines of her bones and organs through almost transparent skin was enough to make me look away. I could see her eyes move behind just as equal pellucid eyelids as if she was staring at the ceiling. It was an unnatural sight, like looking at something from a nightmare, and knowing that the only thing keeping her whole in this world was the vacuum seal created by the glass coffin.

I wanted to be angry at her. I wanted to tell her how her leaving me sedated in a hospital bed after was a monstrous deed. But I couldn't muster the right emotion. I couldn't stop looking at the see-through human in front of me. Each beep from her heart monitor according to the beating of her visible heart, was comforting, because at least I knew she was still alive.

The tears that fell were silent, but reluctant.


	19. Eighteen- Dakota

_Eighteen- Dakota_

I set out through the streets towards the prison. Everyone seemed to be flowing in the same general direction this morning, causing a slower pace than I wanted. I moved away from the people and moved to an alleyway uninhabited by watchful eyes to scale the side of the buildings. If the streets were to be slow, then I shall take to the rooftops.

Approaching the large clock tower of the prison, I could see people gathering at the gallows. Getting off the roofs, I blended in with the crowd again to move as close as possible without causing suspicion. Three men were ready to hang- actually, two were men, and one was a young boy. The executioner was standing at the ready, face hidden behind a black hood. Two other men were on the platform as well. The shortest and stockiest of the two was doing the talking- he exclaimed about a conspiracy that the three committed, naming them out loud as Giovanni, Federico, and Petruccio.

 _Okay, not Ezio. Where is this guy, anyway?_

"In the _absence_ of any compelling evidence to the contrary, I am _bound_ to pronounce you _guilty_!" Announced the short stocky man doing all of the talking, "You and your collaborators are hereby sentenced to death!"

With a wave of a hand, the executioner pulled the lever and the three men dropped through the floor. Over to my right was some commotion; a man pushing through the crowd with haste wearing white robes and hood donned. I concentrated enough for my vision to change over, marking the men on the platform in red, the people around me in blue, and the man in the hood in gold.

" _There!_ " Shouted the announcer as he pointed to the man in the hood, "Grab the boy! He is one of them!"

 _That's him_ , I thought, blinking away Eagle Vision, and pushed through the rest of the crowd.

I raced over to the man, and grabbed his arm after a very large guard disarmed a sword not well wielded. He looked over his shoulder to me quickly.

"Come on, we have to go!" I shouted over the chaos of the crowd.

He turned with me and started to run, matching my pace. Guards were quickly closing off the exits, wielding swords with eyes locked on us. Without stopping, I started to scale a building in hopes that this kid would follow my example. Thank God he did, and fast, because the large guard was right on our heels. I helped pull Ezio onto the rooftop before taking off at full speed.

"Where are we going?" Ezio shouted to me as I started to outpace him.

"You just have to trust me! Keep up!"

From the rooftops, it was easy to gain a visual on the guards below trying to keep up with the escaping targets leaping from building to building. We pulled away from them and found a safe place to hide close to _La Rosa Colta_ , but far enough not to bring attention to Paola's doorstep. I stopped and watched as the panting young man caught up to me.

"I really hope you're Ezio," I said with my hands on my hips.

"How do you know my name?" He asked breathlessly.

I smirked, "Annetta, right? You know Annetta?"

"Yes I do, but-"

"Don't worry about it. She got your sister and mother to safety. I'm going to take you to them."

Still out of breath, Ezio just waved me on, finding no need to question further.

Approaching the _La Rosa Colta_ , I quietly moved myself to the shadows provided by one of the two buildings of the alleyway. The clinking sounds of weaponry from a group of city guards were drawing near; I pushed my back against the building to conceal myself within the shadows. Ezio, paying no mind, tried to walk past me into the plain sight of the guards. I extended my arm out and smacked him in the chest, pushing him back against the wall while _shh_ -ing him. The guards walked past without detection. I stayed against the wall until the clinking of armory faded away before moving onto the street.

I opened the door to the brothel, allowing myself inside before Ezio. He came to my side upon entering, looking around with a look of awe and confusion.

"I think we have the wrong building," he said quietly.

I laughed, "That's exactly what I thought my first time here."

Paola came around the corner in that moment. I made myself scarce, letting the girls know upstairs to alert Ezio's mother and sister of his arrival. Of course, I stayed near the steps enough to eavesdrop on the conversations downstairs. Claudia, Ezio's sister, was all in a tizzy about his return and their mother not speaking. I could tell the sister lived a sheltered and privileged life; nothing could topple her world because she owned it. Ezio told them of the execution- their father and two brothers were the ones hung in town today. It was hard to listen to his sister's sobs, so I removed myself all together from the drifting voices.

Standing out on the second story balcony, I pushed off my hood and pulled my hair down from my ponytail. I overlooked the streets below and twisted at the rosary around my neck in thought. I wondered what was happening at the base while I was gone. Roger consumed most of my thoughts lately, as his condition was tugging at my nervous. Leaving him sedated ate at my conscience when it got the chance. He would be pissed at me when I returned; whenever that would be. Almost a month has passed since I left, and I wondered how much longer they were to keep me here.

The door behind me opened. I peered over my shoulder to find Ezio approaching me. He rested his arms against the balcony and looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"I did not ask your name," he said.

I huffed a laugh, "It's Dakota."

" _Dakota_ ," he repeated slowly, "it is foreign, much like your accent. Where…are you from?"

"Far away from here," I smirked, but let it fade quickly. "I'm sorry to hear about what happened to your family."

He said nothing, but shifted on his feet and looked to his folded hands.

"I know loss, too," I said quietly, looking down at the street.

"Paola would like me to escort you and the ladies tonight."

"So the escort of the escorts needs another escort. Great," I smirked.


	20. Nineteen- Dakota

_Nineteen- Dakota_

Ezio and I loomed above the courtesans, watching the streets from the rooftops. Ezio was pacing from boredom, and when he did not pace, he muttered his anxieties to me about the situations with his family. I had nothing to offer him besides someone to at least partially listen to him. It was strange to watch him, an Assassin at his very beginning, realize that he was going to travel a road he did not like. He spoke of fleeing the country to keep his mother and sister safe, but at the same time wanted revenge for his father and brothers. It was hard to believe that this anxious and angered teenager would quote philosophical ideals, later to be written in my father's journal, and looked up to by other Assassin's. He had quite the journey ahead of him.

I watched a few shadowed figures move to the courtesans below while Ezio babbled on about going to Spain. The figures were beginning to talk to the ladies, but started to become aggressive. I straightened myself and shushed Ezio so I could listen to the traveling voices of the men.

"Shit," I muttered to myself before switching back to Italian, "You do know how to fight, yes?"

Ezio stammered, caught off guard by my question, " _uh_ …yes?"

"Good. Follow me," I nodded towards the ground.

I scaled down the side of the building with acrobatic skills Mentor De helped me master in my trainings. I jumped from a window ledge and landed between the courtesans and the four aggressors. I extended my hidden blade to the closest throat in front of me.

"Time to go," I said, both to the girls and the men. The courtesans scurried and left for the protection of the brothel.

"And what if we don't?" Replied another man who did not have a blade inches from his jugular.

"Your funeral," I shrugged.

Their only response was muffled laughter.

From my right, the shadowed arms of a man lunged out to grab hold of me. I stepped back, grabbing the man's arms and throwing him to the ground. The man whose neck I had threatened advanced towards me; I sent a hard punch into the man's nose which released a loud crack and gush of blood. He staggered backwards and tripped over the legs of the man I had thrown to the ground, who was trying to regain to his feet. The third man was trying to release his dagger from his holster, but I worked faster than he, sending a throwing knife into the hand reaching for the weapon. He let out a scream, gripping his hand and trying the remove the blade. The fourth man was successful in retrieving his silver short blade dagger, and lunged at me with a loud grunt. I pulled my Sai blades and blocked his blow with my right hook, using the downward motion to disarm the man before using the butt of my left Sai to jab the man's nose. Although the nose cracked like his counterpart, it was not enough pain for this man to surrender.

From behind I sensed danger, and quickly turned to find that my first attacker had regained his feet. He swung at me with balled fists, grunting and yelling as he mustered all of his force. I slammed my Sai blade into his left arm, and used the butt of my right blade to hit against the side of his temple. The man fell to the ground instantly, but his enraged friend had recollected his dagger and was advancing again. I deflected his lunge, but could not get a good hook around his blade to deflect him once again. The man reset himself and came down upon me, causing me to use both Sai blades to hold off his down strike. Before the man could get any more of an upper hand, I took a low blow and sent my knee upwards into his groin. He immediately reacted, backing up just a step, enough for me to step back and muster a round house kick to the side of the man's head. He fell onto the stones unconscious.

I sheathed my Sai blades and panted. The two other men had fled the scene before they could get any worse of a beating. The man who had received a knife through the hand pulled it out and dropped it. I walked over and picked up the throwing knife, wiping the blood off and placing it back to its original place in my arsenal. I glanced up to the shadowed figure of Ezio standing a building away.

"Thanks for the help," I said, rolling my eyes.

"How did you do that?" He asked.

I only shook my head before signally our return to the _La Rosa Colta._

The next day was Ezio's first lessons with Paola; I watched from a distance as she taught him the tricks of blending within a crowd and petty theft. After a few hours, she sent him on his way to someone who could fix his hidden blade. I could tell that Ezio's haste for a quick revenge against a man named Uberto Alberti troubled Paola. His eagerness could lead to lack of thought, one simple mistake or overlooked detail could mean an early grave.

"Dakota I must ask something of you," Paola said, pulling me to a sitting room we had convened at my arrival.

"Yes?"

"Ezio has taken it upon himself to assassinate Uberto Alberti. I would like very much if you accompany him when he does."

I sighed heavily; I wished very much to stay out of Ezio's altercations for fear of messing with the balance of history. "I will go, but I cannot participate."

"No, I would not ask that. When the deed is done, ensure Ezio's safe route back to us here."

I nodded, "I will try my best, Paola."

Standing on the rooftops, staring down at the oblivious crowds below, Ezio and I waited for signs of his target. I wasn't sure _why_ Ezio picked this particular place for his spying position; it was open with no blind spots. The only advantage I could see was the position of the sun as it set, causing us to become black silhouettes against the sky. I observed Ezio's reactions to the people down below, wondering if he would be able to pick out his target alone and from such a distance.

He tensed up, keeping a keen eye on two men walking away from our position. "There he is," he mumbled before taking a step closer to the roof's edge.

"Maybe we should keep to the rooftops; stay at a higher vantage point," I suggested.

"No, I must follow him closely."

I rolled my eyes as Ezio made to jump down from the rooftop, "Have it your way then."

I did not follow Ezio's leap, I chose to stay away from the action and keep to the rooftops. This was Ezio's target, not my own, so he may do as he pleased. I kept pace with Ezio, moving along the buildings until I reached an opened courtyard of a _palazzo_. Uberto Alberti walked into the courtyard, mingling about with the attendees, speaking with a tone perfected by higher class societies. Curious, I looked around for any site of Ezio; he either learned the reasons of stealth or realized I was right and was looking for another way inside the guarded _palazzo_.

Then, there he was, waltzing inside like he belonged with the crowd. Until, of course, the crowd began to look at him with raised eyebrows and curious glances. He stopped, staring at his target, until Uberto turned and found Ezio alive and angered.

"You!" Uberto shouted.

Ezio bolted for him, practically tackling the man while stabbing him repeatedly.

 _Oh, good_ , I rolled my eyes, _we're going to fight our way out then. Lovely._

"The Auditore are not dead!" Ezio stood and shouted to the overlooking crowd. "I am still here! Me! Ezio! Ezio Auditore!"

"Great. Expose yourself while you're at it. Awesome. Always keeping a low profile, hm?" I mumbled to myself as I watched Ezio scamper for the exit as oncoming guards fled to the scene.

I ran along the rooftop in the general direction Ezio was leaving. Just as he sprung free from the guards inside, a lone guard was running to catch up, sword at the ready. He was going to slash at Ezio and bring him down successfully. I made a quick decision, leaping from the roof and engaging my hidden blade. I came down on top of the guard, sinking my blade down into the man's neck. Ezio turned and looked at me with a look of confusion. I pulled my blade from the guard's throat and started running.

"What are you doing? Get the _hell_ out of here!" I wasn't sure if I yelled in Italian or English, but I grabbed Ezio's arm and fled through the street.

As we ran, dodging down alleyways trying to shake our advancing hunters, I could hear Ezio's gasps for air as he barely kept up with me. We met a dead end in an alleyway, and I immediately began to scale the buildings. Ezio stalled, catching his breath, but as the heavy footfalls and clinking of weapons drew closer, he started to climb as well. There would be no stopping until we finally shook free of the guards, but I knew our faces would be plastered over every wall in the city.

Entering the _La Rosa Colta,_ I gave Paola a side glace full of disapproval and anger before making my way upstairs. Ezio could have killed us in the process of taking down his target. Then the idiot exposed himself to the crowd, giving the mysterious hooded man a face, voice, and name. He had much more to learn, and for someone with not much more experience than him, it was pathetic.

I did not see the Auditore family off that night as they left for _Toscana_. I watched them leave from the balcony, using the night to mask their departure from _Firenze._ There was a sickening feeling in my stomach that evening. I was shivering, and an all over aching feeling left me exhausted. I retired early, covering myself with my blankets and sucking air through my teeth when the aching reached my bones.


	21. Twenty- Dakota

_Twenty- Dakota_ _Vinezia- 1486_

I quickly learned that traveling back and forth through time was equally as painful; it was just being prepared for the sensation that made the experience. When I returned to the modern day after my adventures with Ezio and Paola in _Firenze_ , Doctor Means issued me two weeks recovery before returning to trainings. During my stay at the base, I was denied contact with anyone outside of the lab and gym beside those working beside me. I was unable to talk or even see Roger, but was granted the knowledge that he was doing better than when I left him.

When my recovery was over, I was entered into a two week crash course of training. During my trainings, Colt drilled me with new skills I had picked up in my missions before teaching me new lessons and working on skills for the new weaponry I was equipped with. I was granted a second hidden blade and two daggers to keep in the sides of my boots.

My mission was to find a man by the name of La Volpe, and from there, do what he asked of me. But as I wondered the streets of _Vinezia_ , only directed that _he_ would come to me indirectly, I started to think I was set up for failure. I even scanned the crowds with Eagle Vision, but I saw nothing but innocents walking past. Frustrated after three hours of searching for nothing, I sat down on the ground in the shade of an alleyway. I pushed off my hood and ran my fingers through my hair with a heavy sigh. I listened to the footsteps of people passing by and wondered blankly about what I was to do next.

Quiet footfalls in the alleyway slowed to a stop a few feet away from me, "psst!"

I looked up to find a short man in black clothes looking at me. I raised an eyebrow to him.

"Verdi?"

" _Si_ ," I nodded.

The man waved his hand for me to follow.

I got myself to my feet and readjusted my hood and backpack. The man sprinted off and I followed with ease down the alleyways until we reached a flight of stairs leading down to a particular black door. The man led me to the door and ushered me inside. The door closed, and my senses heightened to someone behind me.

I turned to find an older looking man peering at me under a brown hood. "You are the one Paola titled _la belle Assassino_. Dakota Verdi," he stated.

"I am Dakota, yes. The title I was unawares."

He smirked, "You know of me."

"La Volpe," I looked at him with a raised eyebrow, trying to keep the same level of confidence this man carried.

"And you are here to learn _our_ ways. The ways of a thief and of an Assassin."

"Yes, I am."

My first lesson started that very evening, where I found La Volpe was able to out run me. He critiqued my loud footfalls, and started to teach me how to run quietly. "You must be like a hunter's shadow," he would say, "quiet and deadly." The lessons would continue throughout the week under cover of night until my footwork was perfected and I could keep up with the master thief. He had me steal from the pockets of guards and breaking entry into _palazzo_ s across the city. Soon, La Volpe left me to train with his own thieves in the daytime who taught me some of their own tricks.

After a month, La Volpe left me to do spy work for him alone. Every thief brought back information from the streets directly to their master. But my line of spy work was a little different, I was given a particular location known for Templar gatherings and paid guards to uphold the Order's work. Most days gave me no leads on the Templar's, but in this higher society area, I heard plenty of gossip to keep me entertained. I returned to the hideout that night with not a single bit of useful information against the Templar's. Another thief was disclosing information to La Volpe when I walked inside, but I was singled to join their conversation.

"-They're going to be filling the docks in the coming weeks," remarked the thief.

"Dakota," La Volpe drawled, "how good are you in the skills of deception."

"Deception? By what means?"

"Impersonation…disguise?" He prompted.

"Not beyond basic trainings," I said quietly.

La Volpe smirked, "I have a job for you." He pulled me aside before continuing, "I need you to do some undercover work. You are not a recognizable face in the city, and that will be vital to your success."

I blinked at him, "What do you need me to do?"  
"You will need to capture the attention of Federico Catteno _de Carrccii_ , an aspiring sea trader who we believe has been paid handsomely by the Templar's for his services. His cargo is very rarely going to the city's markets, but mostly to large _palazzo_ s by private guards. We are unsure of his standing with the Templar's, whether he is part of them or being compensated enough to keep quiet on his business arrangements."

I raised an eyebrow, "How should I capture his attention?"

La Volpe smiled wickedly, "Tell me, Dakota, do you consider yourself a religious person?"

"Uh…no, not exactly," I stammered.

"Your rosary has given me an idea."

That following Sunday, I was up early and dressed in the peak of fashion for mass. Federico reportedly attended service twice a week at the same particular church. We hoped this would be the easiest way to naturally come into contact with the sea trader. La Volpe and I had worked on perfecting my character, making a full background, correcting my grammar in Italian, working on my accent, all bringing to life Amalia Gatti. One of the thieves had escorted me to mass that morning, pointing out Federico in the crowd pouring into the church before leaving me to my own devices.

I sat a few rows behind Federico to keep direct observation of him and the people he kept around himself. Mass was conducted in a way I thought I would meet my maker by dying from boredom. The service seemed to drag on for hours, but at long last we were able to leave. I made for the doors, acting as if I was searching for someone in particular. Off to my right, Federico was saying goodbyes with a group of people, and I slowly made my way over, acting if I were not paying much attention. Federico turned and almost bumped into me.

"Pardon me, miss," he said genuinely.

I looked up into his face to find that he was quiet the handsome looking young man. "Oh, no that is my fault, sir. I should have been paying closer attention."

He smiled, "A young lady like you should have an escort."

I giggled in perfect pitch to La Volpe's lessons, "I had one, but I cannot seem to find them…" I trailed off purposely.

"If I may be so bold, I could escort you home," He said boldly before taking my hand, "Federico Catteno _de Carrccii_ , at your service miss."

"Amalia Gatti," I smiled, "and yes, thank you, that would be so kind."

"Any gentleman should not leave a lovely lady to walk the streets of _Vinezia_ alone. It is quiet a dangerous city."

"As I have been told," we began to walk down the remaining stairs from the church, "I am only visiting, but have heard so much about this city."

"Visiting?"

"Yes, I have family here that invited me to visit on several occasions. Do you live here mister Catteno?"

"Please, call me Federico. And yes, I have lived here for the majority of my life. Although I am a sea merchant, and my trade has taken me many places."

"So you are a sailor?"

"No, not exactly," he smiled, "I own a few ships for myself."

I gasped, "Really? How extraordinary, you look so young. You and your wife must be living comfortably, if I should be so bold."

"Actually, I am not married."

Again, another gasp, " _No_ , how can that be? A successful, handsome, young man still without a wife? I have trouble believing that."

"You said you were visiting. For how long will you be staying?"

"Through _Carnevale_ for certain. But many things can happen in the course of a few weeks."

"And your husband is comfortable with your traveling?"

I giggled, "I am not married, nor suited." We were nearing the agreed upon spot to be my "family home."

"No? Now, I have trouble believing such a beautiful woman like you is without a suitor."

"Like I said before, a great many things can happen in the course of a few weeks. I can walk the rest of the way; it is just down the street."

"May I count on seeing you again next Sunday mass?"

I smiled, "You may. Of course, we may see each other before then."

"May I see you tomorrow?"

I smiled brighter, knowing I had caught his attention, "You may. Meet me here?"

"I will be here," Federico took my hand and kissed it before relieving me to depart.


	22. Twenty-One- Dakota

_Twenty-one- Dakota_

Weeks drew nearer to the _Carnevale_ , and I had dug myself into a shameful hole as Federico Catteno _de Carrccii_ had fallen quiet smitten with my alter ego, Amalia Gatti. The man was so blinded by infatuation he failed so see my little flaws as a warning of danger, but instead as cute quirks that made him smile. The deeper I was dragged into this twisted plot, the guiltier I felt. But, as La Volpe reminded me, I was uncovering sensitive information about Federico's business with the Templar's.

Federico was, until recently, kept in the dark about the men he held such good business. He was paid handsomely to not ask question or cause speculation. Just within the last week, Federico was invited to a dinner party with his business partners. When he returned, he spilled their secrets to me as if he was unable to contain the information. Federico was to be accepted into the Templar's social ring with the promise they would keep his business thriving as long as he did his part correctly. He was an enormous asset to their wealth.

"He must be ended," La Volpe strongly said one evening.

I snapped my gaze to him, "Ended? He hasn't even gone off the deep end with the Templar's yet. Isn't there something else to do besides killing him off?"

"The man knows too much, and when you side with those with wealth, who would turn their backs to the opportunity?"

I slouched down into my seat, "He's a good man."

"But a man who is now with our enemy," La Volpe gave me a long hard look. "End him before it's too late."

The next day after church, Federico and I were on our daily walk. I was admiring the city moving about to make preparations for the _Carnevale_ celebrations. Federico quietly handed me something wrapped in cloth. I took the item and carefully unraveled the cloth, finding the contents to be a golden mask.

"A mask?" I asked, looking at him with curiosity.

"Not just any mask, _il mio bel fiore_ , it is an invation to the Doge's party tomorrow evening. He is going to be hosting the biggest party in the city. Will you join me, Amalia?"

I felt my heart raise into my chest, knowing what La Volpe will have me do. "Yes, I accept."

I was right knowing that La Volpe would have me assassinate Federico under the cover of the crowded party. Early the next morning, I was sent away to the best tailor in the city and returned with clothes of the highest fashion. The thieves had given me stolen jewles to wear to the Doge's party, and another theifs wife did my hair. I turned the golden mask over in my hands several times, nervous for my first assassination, and guilt striken that it was time to show a good man that he had been decieved. I strapped my hidden blade underneath the long sleves of my gown, and keep my knieves in my boots. I was not ready for this, no matter how many times La Volpe reminded me that he was our enemy.

I walked the streets alone to the party, my face hidden beneath my invatational mask. I drew closer to the party, where I caught a glimse of a man wearing white robes and donned hood. He had stopped before the gates of the party, looking around the guarded entereance for a less conspicious place to enter.

I moved beside the man, "Ezio."

He turned to look at me; I pulled off my mask and allowed him to see my true face.

"Dakota," He sighed with relief, "It has been too long."

"What brings you here?" I asked, slipping my mask back on.

"The Doge and I have unfinished business. But I should be asking you the same question."

I signaled for him to walk with me, "I am in disguise, thanks to La Volpe. I have been known as Amalia Gatti for the past several weeks in attempt to gain information from a newly recruited Templar."

"Federico Catteno?"

I nodded, "You have heard of him?"

"Only a little," Ezio shrugged.

"Tonight I am to end him," I said calmly, but on the inside I was shaking.

"Two assassinations at once," Ezio mused, "Should be an interesting party."

I smirked, "Indeed."

With my presence, the guards at the gates sidestepped and allowed us entry without question. Federico was to meet me inside the party after the Templar's held a private meeting inside. I let on to Ezio that the Doge would be making his welcoming speech after their meeting concluded.

"In the meantime, care for a dance?" Ezio smirked.

"That would be lovely," I took his hand and moved to blend with the other dancing couples.

Ezio led the dance fluently, but we were both fixated on what was happening behind one another.

"I heard you have been quite the busy man," I smiled; I have heard the events of Ezio's life through word of the other thieves.

"And yet I have heard nothing of you," he frowned.

"La Volpe likes to keep his secrets as much as he loves to hear others."

"That is true; the man lurks in his own darkness."

"And keeps very strong opinions," I muttered.

Federico moved from the shadowed doorway into the light around the dance floor.

"I see my target," I whispered.

"As do I," Ezio said, staring off behind me.

" _Buona fortuna_ , Ezio."

We slipped off in separate directions just as the song ended. Federico's creased brow lightened as he watched me approach. I smiled to him, and he only smirked in return.

"Forgive me, I met an old friend before the party and had a dance."

Federico raised an eyebrow, "An old friend?"

"Yes, what are the odds?" I could tell Federico was less than pleased, "Forgive me, it's _Carnevale_."

His eyes softened, and he extended his hand for mine. We moved to the dance floor where everyone was quiet for the Doge's speech. Fireworks began to pop off in every direction as music began to play again. There was another explosion, one of gunfire, and Marco Barbarigo, the Doge of _Venzia_ , fell. Ezio made his kill, causing panic in the crowd. Federico tightened his grip on my arm, trying to make a run for safety. He pulled me into the shadowed walls of the _palazzo_ , away from the crowd. I unsheathed my hidden blade and pushed him against the wall, my knee just below his groin. I carefully placed my blade to his throat just threateningly enough to make him squirm.

"Tell me what your meeting was about," I growled.

"They- they had a shipment come in. Off of one of my own ships. They called it the Apple."

My eyes widened, "Where is it?"

"In a _palazzo_ at the edge of town," He gasped.

I moved my blade from his throat, and plunged it into his heart. "You knew too much, and for the protection of the Brotherhood, you had to be slain."

Blood seeped from his mouth, " _È sporco bugiardo_."

"I'm sorry it had to be his way," I said as I laid Federico's body on the stone floor.

I knew I had little time to escape. I pushed through the crowd and disapperead within the city streets. The guards were too focused on finding the Assassin that killed the Doge to worry about the Assassin that murdered the newly recruited businessman. I made it to La Volpe's, and quickly changed into my robes and grabbed my belongings. I donned my weapons and threw my backpack over my shoulder.

La Volpe watched me as I readied to leave, "What is your next move?"

"Retrieve the Apple of Eden."


	23. Twenty-Two- Dakota

_Twenty-two- Dakota_

I traveled to the _palazzo_ , only to find it covered with guards. Using the shadows casted by the night, in between flashes of fireworks in the sky, I made my calculated moves through the grounds to the walls. I waited for a passing guard to make his rounds past me before starting to scale the building to a second story window. I peered inside, careful for the light not to ruin my cover; the door was closed and the room was empty. I slid the window open and crawled inside as quietly as possible before the guard down below made his turn around the building again.

Moving to the door, staying low so my shadow was not casted high along the walls, I went to grab the doorknob when I heard footsteps passing the door. I held my breath, unable to move, hoping the footsteps would not lead to this door opening. They stopped moving, and my heart pounded in my chest frozen in my outstretched position. What would I do if the door opened? Fight my way out? I could not take a step either way; the noise would alert the guard outside of the door. Finally, the guard started to move again, but I still waited until I could no longer hear the echo of his boots.

I snuffed out the burning candle before cracking the door open. I listened first, hoping the guard was not already making his rounds back towards the door. I could hear him distantly coming from the right, but enough of a distance I believed would be enough for me to sneak from the room. I slid out of the threshold and carefully closed the door. I crept down the hallway, closer to what sounded like whispers.

"What's so important about that box?" I heard one man ask.

"Not certain, but they seemed pretty desperate to keep it safe. Must be worth a lot of money," the other replied.

"Where did they put it?"

"Third floor in the office. Why do you ask?"

"Let's go take a peek-"

"-Don't you dare. You heard the rules. Don't look at it, don't touch it, and don't do anything with it. Just guard it."

 _Third floor in the office,_ I thought to myself. I looked over the balcony that opened around the entire first floor of the _palazzo_. There were two guards standing at the entrance of each stairwell, leaving the only option to climb. I swung my leg over the marble banister and started to climb the decorated column beside me. I kept concentrating on my footing and the next position my hands needed to grasp, ignoring the height I was ascending, until I reached the banister of the third floor. I pulled myself over the railing and looked up and down the hall for guards. There was the echo of footsteps off to my left, so I naturally moved in the opposite direction.

The Templar's would never leave their precious items unguarded; I knew the door to the office would be heavily watched. I peaked around the corner to find a large double door was protected by two large guards wielding heavy axes. I had no hope in battle against the armored men, and I knew they would alert the other guards on duty. With my limited options, I surrounded myself in the shadows and waited for the approaching guard to come forth as he made his laps around the floor. When the guard overlooked my concealed hiding spot, I moved behind him. I threw my arm around his head to cover his mouth, and slammed my hidden blade into his back, making sure there was enough noise for the door guards to come looking.

I heard heavy footsteps leave the office doors. I pushed my back against a marble column and readied a heavy throwing knife. The first guard came around the corner and stopped at the sight of his fallen comrade. Before the man could yell for his other partner, I used as much force I could muster to send my throwing knife into his skull. The man fell to his knees, and slumped over against the banister. I heard the other guard move from his position to investigate the commotion. I climbed the column quickly and waited.

The guard came around the corner, and stopped at the sight of the two bodies. He spent no time to further look at them, but started to search the dark halls for the intruder. He passed below the column I had climbed, and I took my leap. I extended my hidden blade and came down hard on the man's back and shoulders, plunging my blade into the back of his neck. He became immobilized instantly.

I moved onwards to the door, only to find it locked. I pulled my lock picking supplies from my backpack and went to work. After a few minutes, the door clicked open, and I entered the office. Upon the desk sat a chest, but what tipped off this average looking hunk of wood was the slight golden light piercing out from the cracks. I moved to it, and opened the lid.

There it was- the Apple of Eden, an artifact I heard mentioned in classes and by my Italian mentors numerous times. I picked it up out of the chest, feeling a strange sense of energy radiating from the golden sphere. It had strange markings all along its surface that glowed bright golden rays of light. Suddenly, it burst into a blinding white light, making me shield my eyes. When I reopened them, I was no longer standing in the office. I was in no place at all, it seemed- just a strange dark void with the Apple's markings glowing on the walls. I looked around, hoping that this hallucination would pass quickly.

I made a full circle, and when I turned all the way around, there was a man standing in front of me. I jumped back with a heavy gasp, my heart racing as the man stared me down. He was wearing white robes, and his face was covered with a hood.

"You are going to be betrayed," he announced.

"Betrayed?" I echoed.

A sudden flash and the man had disappeared. I looked for him all around me, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Hello?" I called out.

Another flash and the man reappeared, but this time his face seemed aged. "Betrayed by someone you trusted."

"By who? How to you know this?" I asked, but the man had disappeared again. "Who _are_ you? How do you know this!"

I turned and jumped back with a scream as the man had reappeared behind me. But he no longer had a face, just his skull, "Because it happened to me."

Another bright burst of white light, and I found myself on the floor in the office. I looked for the Apple, which had rolled to the opposite side of the office from me in the process. My heart was pounding, and I had the overwhelming urge to destroy the Apple. Just as I got myself to my feet, a guard rushed into the office.

" _Intruso! Intruso! Assassino!_ " He yelled as loud as he could.

Shit.

I pulled a knife and threw it, sinking into the man's throat. I secured my backpack before rushing from the room and to the banister to climb to the roof. I found it to be flat, and with posted guards overlooking the outside grounds. They spotted me and began yelling, rushing towards me ready to fight. I unsheathed my Sai blades and began blocking their swinging swords. I could not seem to get the upper hand, fighting off at least four guards at once under moonlight and random lights from the exploding fireworks in the distance. I kept backing up as they advanced, and I could not steal a chance to look behind me to see how much room I had left. My heels made contact with the slight wall at the edge of the roof. I looked back, trying to keep my balance from falling off the roof.

Just then, a sword slashed me across the face. The blade cut a centimeter from my left eye, a wonder how he missed my eye completely, but sliced all the way from the corner, across my temple to my hairline. I felt the hot ooze of blood start trickling thickly. Another guard from the side moved in front of me, picking me up. I screamed and kicked, trying to fight off the man's grasp.

He threw me off.

I could not even scream, only hopelessly reach out in front of me for something to grasp onto to stop myself from slamming into the Earth.

I saw a flash of bright light and felt the agonizing pain.

 _End Part I_


End file.
